


Bloom

by tangerinabina_de_archanea



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening, Fire Emblem: Shin Ankoku Ryuu to Hikari no Ken | Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon
Genre: Alternate Universe- Witches, Angst, F/F, FE Rarepair Week 2019, FE3H LGBT Week, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Mild sensuality, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Slight spoilers for Mercedes' supports, Slow Burn, and by that i mean they take a bath together, henry/bernie may get two seconds of attention but they're still totally a thing, me? putting other rarepairs into my rarepair fic? it's more likely than you think, proposal, yeehaw Cichol and Cethleann get a mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-10-29 08:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20793686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangerinabina_de_archanea/pseuds/tangerinabina_de_archanea
Summary: Two young witches fall in love at the Witch's Academy.Written for Three Houses LGBT Week 2019 and Fire Emblem Rarepair Week 2019.





	1. crush / teatime / studying

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8inJtTG_DuU

The study hall of the Witch’s Academy is quiet, the stillness peppered with the clink of  spoons on porcelain, the scratch of quills, and the rustling of pages. The fragrant aroma of tea rings through the air, each different blend’s scent mixing into an exquisite symphony. Mercedes always prefers cocoa, but tea has its merits. 

“Look, look Mercie! There she is!” Annette’s excited whispers do not feel like an interruption, but an enhancement of the room’s gentle sounds. It’s a bubbly, happy sound, and the room is warmer for it.

Mercedes turns her head to see the woman that Annette is trying to covertly point out. Emmeryn. Mercedes has spoken to her only a few times, but she makes her heart flutter and beat more calmly at the same time. Maybe it’s magic. Maybe it’s something else.

There’s an empty seat across from where she sits, her chin resting on her hand as she makes notes on a sheet of parchment. Her teacup floats next to her on its saucer, and she occasionally picks it up in midair, taking a few sips before setting it back down. She looks a little tired, a little worn out, and her hair is a bit unkempt, but Mercedes thinks she’s beautiful.

“Go sit with her!” Annette urges, pushing Mercedes forward and nearly making her trip.

“Isn’t that a bit… forward?” Mercedes doesn’t usually feel shy, to be truthful, but Emmeryn is the first one to make her feel a little bit trepidatious. “There are plenty of other places to sit. I can’t use that as an excuse.” 

“It’ll be fine! Don’t worry! Go before someone else- Oh, that stupid, good-for-nothing...!” Annette raises her voice slightly, making Mercedes shush her before she looks over to see who Annette is now mumbling about under her breath. Sylvain is sitting across from Emmeryn, flashing his most winning smile and obviously trying to chat her up. Emmeryn smiles sweetly back at him and says something, and Mercedes feels her heart drop a little.

“We can sit somewhere else, Annie. Come on.”

“Fine,” she sighs, still looking disappointed. “Of all the times for him to try and get a date…” 

“Don’t be so hard on him. Sylvain’s not that bad once you get to know…” Suddenly, Sylvain is brushing past her, looking a bit nervous and almost apologetic. “...him? Huh?”

“Now’s your chance! Hurry, before someone else sits with her!”

* * *

Emmeryn is lost in the book she’s reading, trying to understand what the author is saying about magically inflicted burns. She feels like they wrote it to be confusing on purpose, and perhaps cursed the textbook too, because right now the letters look like tiny ants crawling across the page, and now they’re swimming, sinking into the pages, and…

Her head drops to the table with an unexpectedly loud  _ thump _ , making her jolt awake. Bewildered by the noise, she looks up and around to find the source before realizing that it must have been her, and her eyes come to rest on the young woman standing in front of her. Mercedes.

She’s only spoken with her a few times, but each is a treasured memory. Mercedes is flighty but warm, like a cloud caught in a summer breeze at sunset, and she always smells faintly of sugar and vanilla and roses. She makes Emmeryn feel at home.

“May I sit here?” Mercedes asks, her voice sweet as honey. Emmeryn swears for a moment that she can taste it.

“Of course.” Emmeryn pulls her books closer to her, clearing away space for Mercedes, and feels something slosh across the table. There’s a creamy liquid trickling around with little black specks in it.

“Oh no, your book!” Mercedes brow knits together in concern, the little wrinkles in her forehead reminding Emmeryn of the way that wax sometimes melts on a candle.

Emmeryn looks down to see that the source is indeed her book, and she quickly waves her hand over it, bringing everything back together. The words are words again, not ants, and the pages are pages, not a syrupy mess. It leaves behind a faint scent of cinnamon and charcoal. “My apologies. I must have dozed off.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Mercedes is smiling again as she lays her own books out on the table. “You look a little tired. Maybe you should take a nap.”

“Mm, maybe…” The idea is tempting, to be sure, but there’s still so much to do… “After I finish this passage. I’m having a little trouble understanding it.”

“What’s it about? I could try and explain it.”

“Magically inflicted burns.” Emmeryn turns the book so Mercedes can see it, and she leans over the table, her hair, in its usual low side ponytail, spilling over the table in thick, pretty curls. “Perhaps it’s because I’m tired, but I’m failing to understand the difference between some of these types.” She points to that part of the page, and Mercedes’ eyes follow.

“Oh, I know this!” There’s that smile again, warm like freshly baked cookies. “I can explain it to you.”

“Really? That would be wonderful, thank you.”

“But… not right now. You need to rest.” Emmeryn feels Mercedes’ hand brush against hers as she closes the book, and it’s just as warm as she always thought it would be. Not that she’s thought about it. Had she thought about it? Alright, maybe a little. “I’ll explain after you get some sleep.”

Emmeryn laughed quietly. “I suppose I can’t argue with that. Thank you, Mercedes. How can I find you?”

“Hmm…” Mercedes thinks for a moment, and her small frown of concentration is a little sweet. “Oh, I know!” From her pocket she produces a ribbon, just like the one she’s wearing in her hair now. “Tie this around your hair, just like mine, and I’ll know that you’re ready to meet up. How does right here sound?”

“Perfect. Again, thank you, Mercedes.”

“It’s no problem. Now shoo!” Her voice is gentle but commanding, and Emmeryn nods, gathering up her books and leaving. She can’t help but smile as she does, feeling a little warmth blossom in her heart, just as warm as Mercedes’ hand.

* * *

Mercedes watches her go, her teacup floating beside her, and feels a little giddy. She’ll get to see her again, and not just in passing or by accident, but on purpose! The thought makes her a little dizzy.

Annette startles her out of her reverie by dropping her books on the table, more harshly than intended, but in her excitement, she doesn’t seem to care. “Mercie! How’d it go? Why’d she leave?”

“Oh, Annie, it was wonderful. She left because she needed to go take a nap. In fact, I made her,” she giggles. “She overworks herself a little too much, but she needs my help with something later, so we’ll see each other again!”

“That’s great! Did you use the super secret weapon?”

“I did,” Mercedes nods, knowing what Annette means. She had helped her charm her hair ribbon to light up whenever the other one was tied around someone else’s hair specifically for… well, in truth, neither of them had planned what it could be used for, but Annette especially is proud of it.

“Oh goodie! I’m so happy for you, Mercie!” She nearly leaps across the table to give her friend a hug, knocking a few books down on the way.

“Annie, be careful!”

“Oops! Sorry!”

* * *

Emmeryn’s steps are careful as she enters the hall, fairly empty now that teatime and dinner are long over. Feeling a little thrill of excitement, she sits at the same seat as earlier, pulls her curls to the side, and ties her hair up with the ribbon, just as Mercedes said. There is a magical pulse in her fingers as she finishes the knot, and she sits and waits, smoothing out her skirt and toying with her hair as she does.

When Mercedes appears, a few pretty candles bobbing in the air around her and lighting her way, Emmeryn almost fancies her to be a ghost, but when she sees her smile, it’s so full of life and warmth that she can’t fathom that she ever thought for a moment that she is anything but alive and bright.

* * *

Mercedes sees Emmeryn before Emmeryn sees her, and in the candid moment, with her hair tied to the side and her fingers making little braids in it, she looks lovelier than ever. When Emmeryn looks up at her, her smile is serene and graceful, like a sunbeam across a meadow, and Mercedes feels her feet carry her a little faster towards her.

She explains what Emmeryn needs her to as thoroughly as she can, but she finds herself getting distracted by the soft tones of Emmeryn’s voice, and by the depth of her gaze when she looks up and nods to tell Mercedes that she finally understands, and by the way the shadows flicker across her face as the candles sputter and twirl in the air. Emmeryn thanks her warmly when their study time is over, and she lingers for a moment even after she’s gone, flooding Mercedes’ senses.

Mercedes’ dreams are confusing that night, but in them she sees her smile, and her lips curl into a smile of their own as she sleeps. 


	2. practice / flowers

The greenhouses are beautiful in the morning, shining with dew and emanating a warmth that feels like being hugged by a fresh loaf of bread. When inside, the bright morning sunlight is softened by the hazy windows, reflecting in the droplets of mist clinging to the spiderwebs above, stronger than steel but as delicate as lace, and butterflies swoop lazily through the air as they wake up, carrying on the small breezes they make behind them the pungent scent of delicious food and wet earth. All classes are held early in the greenhouses, a fact that Professor Dedue is well aware of, and so rather than let a student who rose late go without breakfast, he brings food every day. Students flock to their classes a little earlier than usual to get a taste of his cooking, from the honeyed pastries to the spicy food of Duscur, and he allows them to sit and talk amongst the flowers and herbs and other plants as they wait for class to start. 

Mercedes often likes to bring sweets to supplement what is already offered, but today she feels a bit guilty about it, feeling almost as if she is bribing the professor. True, she is only asking a small favor, and the sweets are her excuse to approach and ask him, but it still feels a bit more calculating than she would have liked.

“Professor Dedue!”

He nods in greeting as she approaches with the basket of goodies, currently busy with a plant and a dropper full of purple liquid. “Good morning, Mercedes. Thank you for your generosity.”

“It’s no problem! Besides, we should be the ones thanking you.” She sets it on the table next to a few trays of meat and vegetable skewers, which, by the looks of it, have all mostly been eaten. “Although… I did want to ask you something. Is that alright?”

“Of course.” There is a puff of pink smoke on the plant’s leaves as he drops one, two, three drops of the purple liquid into the pot. Satisfied, he turns to face Mercedes. “What is that you need?”

“Well, I suppose it’s a silly request, but… Since we’re doing growth spells today, I want to grow sunflowers. They’re for a friend.” _ A friend _. Yes, Emmeryn is her friend, and Mercie is the type to give her friends flowers, but this gift is more significant. She knows that sunflowers are Emmeryn’s favorite, and she only hopes that she’ll be able to grow enough to give her a lovely bouquet.

“I see no reason why we can’t accommodate such a request. I will see to it that you are given sunflower seeds.”

“Thank you very much! This means a lot to me, Professor Dedue.”

“It is no trouble at all.”

There is a slam that makes Mercedes jump, and the back greenhouse door is nearly torn off its hinges as Professor Dimitri enters, looking rather hurried and stressed. “Dedue! Do you have a moment?”

“Is this about the foxglove?” It’s common knowledge among the school that the two professors are married, and seeing one in the other’s classroom was not uncommon. 

“Yes, thank you!” He carefully closes the door, trying to set it fully back in its place, but it swings open a second later as he rushes over. “But… how did you know?” he asks, looking perplexed as Dedue hands him a bag.

“You were mumbling about it as you fell asleep last night. I thought you might need it.”

“Right, as always,” Dimitri smiles, and Dedue smiles back at him before Dimitri gives him a quick kiss and is gone the way he came, brutalizing the door again on his way out. It is a sweet moment, and a sincere one, one that makes the sugar that Mercedes put in her pastries seem lackluster and dull. She catches herself thinking of Emmeryn smiling at her like that, and leaning in for a kiss, and… She pushes the thought away, knowing that she must not get her hopes up so soon, and contents herself with munching on one of the sweets she brought as other students, noticing the new offerings, crowd around the table to get a bite. It doesn’t taste as sweet as she remembers, as if it’s missing something, but she knows that she put in all the ingredients, and everyone else seems to be satisfied. She takes another bite, tasting nothing, and realizes that she can’t see Emmeryn in the throng of students.

Emmeryn arrives right before class starts, her sister in tow, and her cheeks are flushed a pretty pink from running. It’s not like her to be this late, but Mercedes can tell from the guilty look on Lissa’s face that it is no doubt her fault.

The students slowly drift to their places, and the chatter simmers down. Mercedes is sure to sit next to Emmeryn, who leaves a seat open for her. They share only a few classes, but it’s become a habit for them to sit together, and more of a habit for them to find each other throughout the day and not part until necessary. Mercedes has gotten to know Emmeryn much better, and she treasures each little detail she learns. She knows that Emmeryn raised her siblings since she was ten, and she knows that she loves sunflowers, and she knows how she takes her tea (with more cream than sugar), and she knows that when her fingers twirl the curls on her right side that she’s deep in thought, and she knows that she’s not very picky but can’t stand carrots and certain kinds of cheese, and she knows that she loves spicy food and peaches and fruit scones with clotted cream. She also knows that her serene expression is well practiced, and she knows that she keeps a careful hold on her emotions, and she knows when she laughs, really laughs, she sometimes snorts. One of her favorite things that she knows is that she kept the ribbon Mercedes gave her, and ties it around her wrist for safekeeping.

They sit in front of their flower pots as Professor Dedue explains the lesson, with Emmeryn on Mercedes’ left and a quiet girl named Marianne on her right. Henry, a freckled young man whose eyes never seem to be open, was sitting across from her, with Lissa and her friend Maribelle on the right and Linhardt, currently dozing off, on the left. They are practicing cultivation spells, each learning how to create their own. Professor Dedue encourages originality despite the fact that certain methods are proven to be better than others, but he wants his students to work magic with the materials and charms they are most comfortable with.

Emmeryn likes working hers with honey and pepper seeds and water collected from a full moon’s reflection, while Mercedes uses sugar dust and vanilla and excess threads snipped from a knot while sewing. Other students have different methods, such as Marianne, who collects silk and dew from the spiders after graciously asking their permission, or Maribelle, who simply uses tea, or Lissa, who mixes gold dust in with glitter and rainwater, or Henry, who dumps in clumps of fur and teeth and a dark red liquid that smells absolutely rancid. Mercedes isn’t quite sure where Henry gets all those teeth, and she’s not sure if she wants to know. She’s just glad that Linhardt sleeps through most of these classes, because otherwise he would probably get sick when he saw what Henry was doing.

Mercedes and Emmeryn talk quietly as Emmeryn tells her of the morning’s misadventures, how it all started with Lissa claiming to know a shortcut and ended involving a talking book, a pair of misplaced glasses, and several floating pumpkins. Meanwhile, Professor Dedue paces around the classroom, observing his students’ work and giving assistance where needed. He smiles approvingly at Maribelle’s plant, which is quite literally glowing as it blooms (practically no one else has something blooming yet, but Maribelle’s tea seems to work wonders), but stops with concern by Lissa’s barren pot as she waters it, her eyes nearly crossed in concentration and her lips fixed in a pout as she tries to figure out what went wrong.

“Lissa, if I may?” He gestures to the pot, and Lissa steps aside with a nod. His touch is gentle as his hand dives in, searching the pot for something, and it emerges again with a large golden, glittery frog almost as big as his hand. “It seems that your seeds sprouted a frog instead of a flower.” He hands the frog to Lissa, who nearly buckled under the weight of it. That gold probably isn’t just for show, Mercedes guesses. “You talent for transformation is quite impressive, but I urge you to save it for Professor Dimitri’s class. Try again.”

He moves on to Henry just as his flowers erupt from the pot, daffodils from the looks of it, and slightly wilted to boot. Moments later, however, they perk up, and Henry laughs, delighted as they suddenly try to bite him. One turns around and snaps wildly around the table, almost as if it’s trying to hop out of the pot as it shows off a full set of jagged teeth, and Mercedes draws back a little instinctively, while Emmeryn seems unperturbed.

“Nya ha!” Henry giggles. “It worked! Do you like my snapadils, Professor?”

Dedue sighs at the name, and neither nods nor shakes his head. “Points for creativity.” He pauses before moving on. “Do not grow those any larger.”

“Fiiine.” Henry looks disappointed, but perks up again a moment later. “Can I take them with me after class?”

“I do not want them to remain in my greenhouse, so please do.”

“Hurray! Bernie’s gonna love these!”

She isn’t the only one giving flower gifts today, Mercedes realizes, but her gift is… much less intense. She thinks that’s a good thing. She turns her attention back to Emmeryn, who is smiling with soft amusement but busying herself with her own flowers. “Carnivorous plants are an... odd thing to bond over, but I’m glad that he and Bernadetta are friends.”

“Oh, so am I,” Mercedes agrees. “I’m always so worried about her, all shut up in her room like that.”

“Mmhmm.” Emmeryn frowns for a moment, twirling her right-hand curls. “Pink or purple?”

“What?”

Emmeryn turns her gaze to Mercedes, gazing at her intently for a moment before smiling again. “Never mind.”

“Oh… alright.” Mercedes feels a little flustered for a moment, but she lets it pass. After all, she wants to make sure these flowers are perfect for Emmeryn, and that requires concentration.

“Very good,” Professor Dedue says as he passes by both of them, but stops at Marianne. The poor girl's flowers have sprouted much too early, and are weighing down their stalks. They barely touch the soil before decaying and crumbling into dust, and more shoots are constantly rising up, repeating the process.

Marianne shakes her head with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Professor.”

“No need to be sorry. Simply try again. Remember, a charm only works if you believe in it.”

“I know…” She sounds thoroughly miserable.

“Bring your pot over to my table and we will work on it together. Come.” Marianne gets up and follows the professor to the other end of the greenhouse, and Mercedes is so distracted watching her leave that she doesn’t notice Emmeryn holding a small lavender rose up to the bow in her hair.

“Purple was a good choice,” she smiles, and Mercedes looks down to see her wrapping the stem of the rose around the center of her bow. “It goes with your eyes.”

“Emm, this is lovely! Thank you.” It feels nice to have her fingers in her hair, and even nicer to be able to use her nickname so casually. She’s been doing using it for a few months now, but it still gives her a little thrill each time.

“You’re welcome.” There are other roses blooming on the small bush, each more radiant than the last, and she gently whispers to two of them, which slide into her hand a few moments later. Professor Dedue taught them how to ask plants for flowers and fruits and vegetables and seeds willingly at the very beginning, but even though all of them know how to, there’s a special kind of magic to the way Emmeryn does it.

Mercedes turns her attention back to her pot and the growing flowers, their buds slowly rising as they grow and leaves unfurl around them. They’ll be beautiful, no doubt, for she was sure to use extra bright golden yellow threads in her spell, hoping to enhance the flowers’ natural color.

“Mercie, can you take off your earrings for a moment?” If Mercedes thought that using Emm’s nickname was sweet, hearing Emm call her “Mercie” reminds her that there are things even sweeter. She nods and unquestioningly does so, slipping them into her pocket as Emmeryn tucks her hair back behind her ear. Her fingers are fresh and green, like growing buds in early spring, and warm and gold, like the sun on a misty morning, and Mercedes catches herself almost leaning into it as Emmeryn does something with her ear. She’s off her stool in a moment and crossing to Mercedes’ other side, where Marianne was a few minutes ago, and puts something in that ear as well. “There. Beautiful,” she smiles, and it’s unclear whether she’s referring to her handiwork or to Mercedes; for the sake of her heart, she assumes the former. She raises her hands to her ears and feels tiny, delicate little roses where her earrings used to be, and she’s sure that Emm is right and they do look lovely, perhaps as lovely as the woman that grew them, but Mercedes thinks there’s a slim chance that even such beautiful roses could compare to Emmeryn.

“Oh, Emm, you’re too kind!” She takes a chance and hugs her, and gets a hug back, much to her delight. Emmeryn smells like oranges and earth and world before it rains, and Mercedes makes a point of remembering that scent and tucking it away in the back of her mind to save for later. “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome,” Emmeryn smiles, and there are giggles and snorts across the table. Lissa is far less restrained in her laughter than her sister, and she leans over to whisper something to Maribelle, who primly nods and makes a quiet remark, either a response to her words or, more likely, something along the lines of “That was most unbecoming, Lissa darling. A lady does not snort.” Lissa only giggles and whispers something else, something that makes Maribelle smile and nod again with a quick look across the table. Mercedes has seen Lissa watch them before, always seeming delighted. If she had to guess, she’d say that Lissa approves.

She’s pulled from her thoughts by a soft “Oh!” from Emmeryn, who is looking down at Mercedes’ pot. The sunflowers have sprouted beautifully, large and round with their petals extending like beams from their namesake. “Mercie, those are stunning,” Emmeryn says, her praise soft and warm. It makes Mercedes feel like she just drank a hot cup of cocoa and the warmth is spreading through her, moving pleasantly from her throat down her limbs to her fingers and toes.

“I’m so glad you like them!” She strokes the petals of the largest, whispering to it gently and catching it in her hand after it releases the flower into her hand. “They’re for you.”

“For me?” She’s flustered for just a moment, a rare sight from Emmeryn, but not surprising; she’s a very giving person, and that’s what she’s used to, not to receiving. It only lasts a moment before she regains her composure, and her lips are once again curved into that gentle, serene smile. “Thank you.”

“They’re your favorite, right? I thought you would like them.” Mercedes is ecstatic as she releases another flower from its stem. She would pass it to Emmeryn, but she’s still cradling the first one in her hands, delicately stroking the petals and murmuring the words to a preservation spell.

“I do. I love them.” She finally looks up at Mercedes, her eyes filled with warmth, and seems to be considering something. “I could just… No, never mind.” She suddenly looks away, setting the flower down, then takes off her pointed hat, carefully setting it down where Marianne’s pot used to be. “I know. We can put them on my hat. That would be lovely, don’t you think?”

“That’s a wonderful idea!” Emmeryn sets about arranging the growing stack of sunflowers around her hat’s band, the golden petals contrasting marvellously with the green of the hat and the cream of the band as Mercedes continues growing flowers. “But what were you going to say before?”

“That? Oh, well…” She’s almost bashful for a second, but continues with that quiet confidence that is so characteristic of her. “I was going to say that I could just kiss you. That’s how happy I am.”

“Really?” Mercedes feels a subtle blush spreading on her face, hot and glowing, and her heart flutters a little. It’s sudden, but… “Well, you know, they say that a kiss on the cheek from a witch is good luck.” 

“I’ve never heard that,” Emmeryn says, but it’s not in a disbelieving tone- it’s fond and a little amused. Mercedes just made it up, but Emmeryn is willing to suspend her disbelief for a moment and play along, it seems. “Should we test it?”

Across the table, Lissa nearly knocks her pot to the floor. 

“If you want to,” Mercedes says, not wanting to push her luck but desperately wanting to say yes. This seems like a good halfway point.

Emmeryn nods, then leans in, and her lips are soft as rose petals on Mercedes’ cheek. They linger a little longer than they probably should, but to Mercedes it’s not long enough as Emmeryn pulls back. Her cheeks are the same pretty pink as when she arrived in class earlier. It makes Mercedes think of the little sugar candies she makes that Annette likes so much. “Good luck in exchange for some beautiful flowers,” Emmeryn breathes, and for a moment it seems like she’s nearly going to lean in again.

“What about you?” Mercedes asks. “You gave me some flowers. It wouldn’t be very polite of me to not give you some good luck in return.”

This time Lissa does knock her pot off the table as Emmeryn slightly tilts her head, offering her cheek to Mercedes, and Maribelle lets out an unladly-like shriek when she gets splashed with mud. Professor Dedue is over in a second, asking what happened and if anyone is hurt, but Mercedes isn’t paying attention to that. All she can think about is how warm Emmeryn feels when she presses her lips to her, and how her cheek is just as soft as her lips, and her eyes flutter shut for a moment as she enjoys it. She’s unsure of how long it’s appropriate to stay, and almost jerkily pulls back, feeling herself grow red hot. Emmeryn is smiling and lifts her hand a moment to where Mercedes kissed her, brushing her fingers over the spot, before she turns back to Mercedes. “I feel lucky already.” Her voice is quiet compared to the chaos across the table- Henry’ snapodils have just tried to bite Professor Dedue’s ponytail as he bends down to help Lissa clean up- but Mercedes hears her perfectly.

“So do I.”

Emmeryn turns back to the sunflowers, and her touch is delicate as she encourages them to sprout little stems again, but much more pliable than usual so that they may wind around her hat’s band and magically secure themselves in place. Watching her work is relaxing, and Mercedes feels at peace but giddy at the same time. She still can’t believe what just happened, and it makes her want to both jump for joy and sit quietly to appreciate her presence more.

Professor Dedue is making his rounds again now that things have quieted down, and he doesn’t say anything as he passes Mercedes and Emmeryn. Technically, they are practicing growing magic with the flowers, just not in the most conventional way. Mercedes glances up at him, and he nods a little, the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

When they leave, Emmeryn’s hat has sunflowers ringing around the entire crown, and she looks positively delighted by it. She still holds the first one that Mercedes gave her in her hand, carrying it as tenderly and carefully as if it were made of glass. They both thank each other again before they must part ways, and Mercedes watches her go before turning to leave herself, a small skip in her step and a smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fellas is it gay to cause chaos in the greenhouse by giving each other good luck kisses on the cheek


	3. stars / pumpkin

Emmeryn likes schedules and structure to help guide her throughout the day, and bedtime is no exception. She goes to bed early and wakes up early, at the same time each day. Tonight she follows her usual routine, brushing her hair at 9 o’clock sharp, bathing at 9:05, drying her hair with a spell at 9:25, and curling up with a book at 9:30 before finally blowing out her candles at 10 o’clock to settle in to sleep. It is strict, but it is familiar and comfortable, a dance whose beat she is naturally inclined to follow. As she blows out her candle, her gaze falls for a moment to the sunflower by her bed. It’s the first one that Mercedes gave her a few weeks ago, and she keeps it fresh with a preservation spell and a small bowl of water for it to drift in. It always puts a smile on her face.

She’s been asleep for awhile when there’s a sudden tap on her window, and she ignores it at first, assuming it’s some errant crow or owl. The tapping happens again, more insistent, and she thinks she hears a voice, and so she sits up, sleepily rubbing her eyes. 

Mercedes is at her window, perched daintily on her broom, and lit from behind by the silver light of the full moon and from the side by a lantern dangling from the broom’s tip. She’s only halfway dressed, with her shawl pulled over her fluffy nightgown, and her hair messily pulled into her signature side ponytail, and yet even so she shines brighter than the stars behind her.

Emmeryn slowly rises and goes to her window as Mercedes waves, looking absolutely delighted. When she opens the window, there’s a slight breeze that chills her as it rakes through her hair and nightgown. “Mercie, why are you flying around at this time of night? It’s so late…” she yawns as Mercedes lands on the windowsill, staying on her broom with tips of her slippered toes just touching the stone.

“It’s not that late,” Mercedes giggles. “Not for a witch, at least. Isn’t midnight when we are most powerful?”

Emmeryn leans against the windowsill, resting her chin in her hand, as Mercedes slowly descends so that she can sit next to her. “Maybe some witches.”

Mercedes laughs again at the pout on Emmeryn’s face. Ever since that day in the greenhouse, she’s been a little more free with showing her emotions around Mercedes, and it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that she’s a bit cross about being woken up, but already Mercedes’ presence is improving her mood. “I’m sorry for waking you up. I didn’t realize that you went to bed so early.”

“Please, don’t worry yourself about it.”

“Do you want to go back to bed?” Mercedes’ hand is in her hair now, brushing through it in soft strokes, and Emmeryn leans a little into her touch, already feeling sleepier. “You look tired.”

“No, no, I’m…” Emmeryn interrupts herself with a yawn, leaning more against Mercedes until she falls against her chest, her eyes fluttering shut like the wings of a tired bird coming in to rest. Mercedes is soft and warm and comfortable, and her touch is gentle and soothing. “I’m awake,” she murmurs, but not too loudly, because she realizes she can hear Mercedes’ heartbeat, and it is a beautiful sound that she doesn’t want anything to eclipse.

“Are you?” Mercedes laughs, her voice quiet as she strokes Emmeryn’s hair. “It doesn’t seem like it.”

“Mmhmm.” She feels ready to fall asleep standing up, but she doesn’t really want Mercedes to leave. Falling asleep right here isn’t a bad idea, but she can’t just do that to Mercedes, but oh, it is tempting…

“Go back to bed.”

“No, no, I’m awake.” She opens her eyes again. “I’m awake,” she repeats, and realizes that she doesn’t even know why Mercedes is there in the first place. “Shouldn’t you be in bed as well?”

“I suppose, but tonight is the full moon, and the pumpkins are ripe! Surely you know that pumpkins picked under the light of the full moon are bigger and better than any others. I was wondering if you would come to the pumpkin patch and help me find one, but-”

Emmeryn cuts her off before she can tell her to go to bed again. “I would love to come.”

“But you’re tired.”

“Only a little. I trust you not to keep me out too late.”

“Are you sure?” Mercedes’ fingers brush against her cheek, and Emmeryn nearly sighs in contentment. Her fingers always feel so nice.

“Positive. Let me grab a coat first?”

“Of course.” Emmeryn doesn’t pull away from Mercedes to do that, however; she simply mutters a spell that makes a pair of slippers and a coat fly towards her. The slippers are mismatched and the coat ends up being a dressing gown, but to be fair, Emmeryn is still a little sleepy, so she’s not surprised that the spell doesn’t work perfectly.

Reluctantly, she finally pulls away from Mercedes and immediately misses her warmth as she puts on the dressing gown and slippers, then takes her hand, extended to help her up on the sill. Mercedes stands and mounts her broom, and Emmeryn sits behind her. “Hold on tight,” she says, pulling Emmeryn’s hands so that her arms are around her waist. Emmeryn leans her head against her shoulder, and her hair smells like roses and sugar and vanilla. Mercedes kicks off, and the ride is a little bumpy, but Emmeryn doesn’t mind; it gives her an excuse to hold on to her a little tighter.

The stars are beautiful tonight, and Emmeryn can’t fault Mercedes for looking up at the sky more than where she’s going to take a meandering, flighty path as a result. Emmeryn looks up at Mercedes instead, and the way the shadows dance across her face as her lantern swings back and forth, and the way the moonlight turns her golden hair silver, and the way the stars reflect in her beautiful eyes, and the way her teeth flash in the light when she laughs. This is the closest they’ve been since that day at the greenhouse, and Emmeryn wishes it would happen more often.

It takes them much longer to get to the pumpkin patch than it ever practically should, but Emmeryn enjoys every moment, at least, until Mercedes nearly crash lands them into it. They go flying in one direction and the broom in the other, and there’s a healthy amount of shrieking and cracking of pumpkins before they finally come to a stop, covered in mud and tangled in each other. There’s a moment of utter silence before they both burst out laughing, and when Emmeryn opens her eyes and sees how pretty Mercedes looks, laughing so hard she’s almost crying with her face splotched with mud and pumpkin seeds and her hair a mess, all she wants to do is kiss her.

“Oh, Emm, I’m so sorry!” Mercedes says as her laughter finally dies down. “Are you okay?”

“Just fine. Maybe a little knocked around, but none the worse for the wear. And you?”

“I’m alright.” Mercedes brushes some of the mud off of Emmeryn’s face and tucks her hair back behind her ear, her gaze dropping for a moment to her lips before suddenly pulling away and sitting up. Emmeryn wishes she hadn’t, but there’s nothing to be done about that now, so she sits up as well.

“Mercie, where’s your shawl?” That, her broom, and one of Emmeryn’s slippers are all missing, but Emmeryn is more worried that Mercedes will get cold in just her nightgown. It’s a typical crisp autumn night, with a little bite to the wind’s chill, and while she could use a warming spell, casting such magic in this weather is a bit difficult, and admittedly something she’s not very good at yet.

“Hmm… It must be around here somewhere.” She looks around, but couldn’t see much. The pumpkins were nearly as tall as they were sitting up.

“Let’s find that first, then.”

Mercedes nods as they stand, and shivers a little as a wind ghosts across the pumpkin patch. Wordlessly, Emmeryn sheds her dressing gown and places it around Mercedes’ shoulders. “Emm, you don’t have to-”

“You’re cold.”

“Now you’ll be cold, and you’re missing a shoe.”

“If you’re worried about that, then we’ll find your shawl more quickly, won’t we? And my shoe.”

Mercedes pauses for a moment, then laughs a little. “You’re sneaky! Alright, then let’s hurry.”

They find Mercedes’ shawl tangled in a tree on the edge of the pumpkin patch, which Mercedes immediately bundles Emmeryn up in, and Emmeryn’s shoe in the middle of one of the broken pumpkins they smashed on their way in. Mercedes’ broom is lodged in a nearby pumpkin, and with all their lost items collected, they set about picking a pumpkin.

Mercedes has a very strict set of guidelines for her pumpkin. Most important to her is the size, which must be “as huge as possible,” and the shape, ideally “as strange as possible,” comes second. Emmeryn points out several strangely shaped pumpkins, all of which Mercedes considers thoughtfully for a moment before shaking her head. She’s treating this as a very serious, important decision, and Emmeryn thinks it’s adorable.

At some point Mercedes notices that Emmeryn’s steps are dragging, for she is indeed tired, and she places her broom in the air and lifts Emmeryn onto it before she can protest, then leads her around by hand, hovering with her toes just above the ground. It is a relief to not walk anymore, but the excuse to hold Mercedes’ hand is even better, and she adamantly refuses when Mercedes, a little disheartened, suggests that maybe they should go back to bed and get a pumpkin later.

“You’re tired,” Mercedes insists, “and it’s cold.” She’s still wearing Emmeryn’s dressing gown, and has it bundled tightly around her.

“We still haven’t found a pumpkin.”

Mercedes squeezes her hand. “You’re being very sweet, Emm, but I feel so awful bringing you out this late.”

“I’m having fun. Really.” It’s true. This isn’t something she would regularly do on her own, but she has to admit that it’s fun, and it’s nice being with Mercedes on top of it.

“Really? Oh, I’m so glad!” Mercedes hugs her, and then gasps in delight. “Emm! There it is!” Emmeryn looks back to see what Mercedes is pointing at excitedly, but doesn’t see it before Mercedes yanks on her hand and pulls her across the pumpkin patch. When they finally stop, they’re in front of a huge pumpkin that almost looks as if it’s been half caved in. The highest part nearly reaches Mercedes’ knees.

“Isn’t it a bit… big?” Emmeryn asks, a little doubtful that they’ll be able to take it back. She can levitate teacups and other light objects perfectly well, but she’s never tried something this large or heavy. 

“Yes!” she agrees, absolutely delighted, “and it has so much character!” Mercedes is on her knees, hugging the pumpkin and pressing her cheek to it. “It’s perfect!”

Mercedes’ enthusiasm is infectious, and Emmeryn smiles. “It is.”

Emmeryn learns that Mercedes had a plan all along to bring the pumpkin home, and while she’s not sure if Mercedes’ broom can handle the plan, it’s clever nonetheless. Using one of the growing spells that Professor Dedue taught them, she grows out the pumpkin’s vines until they wrap around her broomstick’s handle and the pumpkin itself, wrapping it securely in a tightly woven net, and then she uses a levitation spell to lift it into the air, with the broom half supporting it and the spell supporting the other half. Emmeryn helps with a spell of her own, and they take off again on the broom, obviously straining under the weight of the two young women and their admittedly ridiculously large pumpkin. They barely make it high enough to get back to Emmeryn’s window.

“Here we are!” Mercedes smiles brightly, but she’s panting and flushed and obviously exhausted from both the spell and trying to fly the broom. “Good night, Emm! Thanks for coming with me.”

“You should stay here tonight, Mercie. You’re too tired to fly all that way by yourself.”

Mercedes is already angling her broom to come inside. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. You need a nice warm bath, and then bed.”

“You spoil me,” she giggles as Emmeryn tugged her inside the window, and helps her ease herself and the pumpkin onto the floor. “Let me spoil you a bit!” The pumpkin hits the floor with a thump, as does Mercedes, her broom suddenly falling with her on it. She lands with her knees together and her legs splayed on each side, like the wings of a bird stretched to warm in the sun. “We can take a bath together and I’ll give you a back rub. How does that sound?”

“You… what?” Emmeryn feels her face grow hot, and she barely even has time to fully register what Mercedes just said before she’s laughing.

“I’m just teasing. Goodness, you’re redder than a tomato!”

“Oh… Oh, yes, of course. Teasing.” She awkwardly laughs, not sure if she’s embarrassed more by the proposal itself or by the fact that she would have said yes if it was serious. It’s not as if it’s inherently… improper, or anything, but it feels so intimate so quickly. She doesn’t know what to say, so she helps Mercedes stand. 

“Thank you.” After she’s up, Mercedes immediately tugs on Emmeryn’s hands, pulling her towards the bathroom. “Come on, let’s go!”

“Wait, go where?”

“We’re not going to bed with pumpkin and mud all over us, are we?”

Emmeryn feels like she’s suddenly rooted to the floor, as if by powerful magic, and her face is even hotter. “You said you were teasing.”

“About the back rub. I just figured, since we’re both tired, it would be quicker for us to bathe together, and um…” She turns pink, from the tip of her nose to the tip of her ears. “Well, I mean, we change together for our fitness class, so I didn’t think…” Even though the Witch’s Academy is a magic school, they do emphasize physical fitness and health as an important aspect of being a witch- for a sickly witch will have weak magic- and it’s true that they’ve seen each other in the Academy’s changing rooms, but that’s in a room full of people, not… alone in a bathtub. That experience is usually also accompanied by Mercedes’ complaints about the fact that the class is required (there are few things that she openly detests, but exercise is definitely one of them, and to be honest, Emmeryn thinks her grumblings are adorable), and she knows that won’t be present to distract either of them now. 

She’s a little hesitant, but Mercedes is right. It’s just a bath, after all, nothing more, nothing less, just between two friends… Mercedes has always made Emmeryn’s head spin in the best way, but this is perhaps the most it’s happened. 

Outwardly, however, she looks composed save for her blush. “Yes, of course. You’re right.”

“We don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable… I’m sorry. I’m being awfully pushy tonight, aren’t I? I do apologize”

“It’s fine, Mercie. Truly. There’s nothing to apologize for.” Emmeryn pats her hand gently and smiles, and that actually makes Mercedes blush more. By the gods, everything she does makes Emmeryn’s heart flutter a little, and this is no exception. Everything about her is so bewitching.

Every bedroom in the academy has a bathroom for the students, and they’re generously spacious, with one wall being taken up by a magically operated shower in the corner, separate from the bath next to it. Seeing as they are private bathrooms, there’s no curtains unless students put them up themselves, and Emmeryn hasn’t. She vaguely considers doing that as Mercedes pulls her into the bathroom, not letting go of her hands. “Yours is so nice!” she says, absolutely delighted. “Mine is, well… It’s not dirty, but it’s not the cleanest either. I’m just so scatterbrained that I forget where I put things half the time and tear apart the room looking for one thing…”

“I could help you organize yours, if you like.”

“Oh, would you? Emm, you’re too sweet!” She pulls her into a tight hug before letting go. “Hmm… we’ll need to wash our clothes, too… and I got your dressing gown all dirty. I’m sorry.”

“Your shawl isn’t in much better shape,” Emmeryn laughs. “It’s fine. We’ll take care of it tomorrow.” They don’t have classes tomorrow, so there will be plenty of time for that.

“Alright then!” Mercedes’ smile is bright, and she wastes no time in starting to shed her clothes. “We should probably rinse off first, shouldn’t we?” she asks, pausing to look a little troubled at the pumpkin innards and mud in her hair. 

“I agree. You go first, and I’ll draw the bath.”

“Thank you!” She goes back to getting undressed, and Emmeryn politely looks away as she walks over to the bath. Her face is hot, the water is hot, the air is hot, and she quietly mutters a spell that will make a bit more steam clouds in the room than there technically should be.

“You know, Emm,” Mercedes begins as she washes her hair, combing through it with her fingers, “You’ve always reminded me of something, and I think I figured out what it is.”

“What is it?” Subconsciously, Emmeryn looks up, but snaps her head back when she realizes that she’s looking right at Mercedes’ bare backside. Every time Emmeryn looks at her, it’s like she gets prettier, and it’s not fair because Emmeryn’s already in love with her, even if she doesn’t quite admit it to herself, and she’s already so lovely that she takes Emmeryn’s breath away every time she looks at her, and…

“Emm?” Mercedes is looking back at her, her head tilted quizzically and her hands paused over her half-wet hair, still hanging over her shoulder and hugging her soft curves.

“I’m sorry, come again? I didn’t hear.”

“Obviously,” Mercedes giggles. “Are you alright?”

“Perfectly fine.” It’s only a half-truth- she is more fine than she’s ever been in Mercedes’ presence, but Mercedes is also the cause of the mess of feelings inside her. She’s never truly takes the time to acknowledge her own feelings, because she’s always been so busy taking care of everyone else, but the way Mercedes makes her feel is so overwhelming that she has no choice but to face it, and now she realizes that she doesn’t really know how to.

“If you’re sure. Well, as I was saying…” She turns back to the shower and fluffs her copious hair out behind her, letting the water run over it. “I figured out what you remind me of. You’re a kettle!”

“...I’m a kettle?” Everything inside her quiets for a moment on account of her utter confusion.

“Mmhmm! A kettle!” she enthusiastically affirms. “See, you’re very pretty, like the fancy kettles they use at teatime, and you’re warm.”

“Oh… thank you.”

”But that’s not all. When you look at a kettle, it looks very calm, doesn’t it? It can have boiling hot water inside it, but it always sits and looks calm and pretty. The only way you can tell that something’s happening inside is when it starts to steam and whistle. You’re like that. You always look so calm and collected, but sometimes, like right now, you steam!”

“I steam?” She wonders if Mercedes is referring to the spell she cast. 

“Metaphorically, of course, but yes! I think today is the first time I’ve seen you blush or look flustered. It’s cute! It’s also really nice to see, though, because it means you’re being more open with your emotions with me. I’d like to thank you for that.”

Everything Mercedes says is true, Emmeryn knows, but it’s not something she tends to acknowledge. If she is a kettle, then she hopes Mercedes realizes that she’s going to make her happily bubble over one day. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Of course I’m open with you.”

“It’s still nice to know that you feel comfortable enough to be open with me,” Mercedes smiles. “I feel like you don’t open up to many people, truly. Your arms are always open, and so is your heart, but only as much as needed for you to care about them and not the other way around.”

“Mm.” Mercedes reads her as easily as a book. “You know, the same could be said about you.”

“I suppose so.”

There’s a few minutes in which they don’t talk, filled by Mercedes’ carefree humming and the trickle of water as Emmeryn fills the tub. 

“Did I say something wrong?” Mercedes finally asks, waving her hand and stopping the water.

“No, not at all.” Emmeryn rolls up her sleeves and plunges a hand into the water, and bubbles start forming on the surface as the room is filled with the scent of roses. She usually likes her baths smelling like citrus, but she feels that Mercedes will like this. “It’s just right,” she says after the bubbles are covering the entire surface, and she pulls out her hand. She isn’t talking about the bath, even if she pretends she is.

She feels Mercedes’ arms around her shoulders and her chest against her back after a few moments as she crouches behind her. She’s getting her and her clothes soaking wet, but she doesn’t care as she raises her hands to hold hers. “My heart is open to you. Don’t be scared to let someone take care of you, once in a while.”

“Thank you.” She rubs her thumb over Mercedes’ fingers, and then Mercedes is gone and climbing in the tub.

“Hurry up and join me!” She sits so that her back is to the shower, sinking into the water with a contented sigh, and Emmeryn quickly undresses and rinses herself off. “The water feels great! It’s been so long since I’ve taken a bath.” She stretches out her arms as Emmeryn waves the shower off, and one of her hands nearly brushes against her. “I might have to come over more often!”

“My door is always open to you” She grabs Mercedes’ outstretched hand and gently jiggles it in an affectionate motion, and Mercedes giggles.

“Be careful what you offer! What if I end up living here?” She closes her eyes and tilts her head back, resting against the edge. 

“These rooms are big enough that two people can share one.” Mercedes hasn’t let go of her hand, and Emmeryn hasn’t either, so she simply doesn’t as she gets into the tub and sits across from her, leaning slightly forward so that they can still hold hands and sliding her legs to one side of Mercedes’. 

“They are, aren’t they? And the tubs, too. It’s strange that they make everything so big.” She sits up, water sloshing around her and her hair dancing in the water like specters. “It can get awfully lonely sometimes.”

“Indeed it can…” Emmeryn never had a room or a bed to herself growing up, so coming to the Academy, where she is expected to sleep in a room by herself, away from her siblings, was a strange experience. She’s still not quite used to it.

“But we have each other now, so that’s alright.” Mercedes’ smile is bright, and it pulls Emmeryn out of the past and into the present. “Do you want to see something pretty?”

“But I’m already looking at something pretty,” Emmeryn says without even thinking, and she’s not sure who blushes more, her or Mercedes.

“I don’t mean like that,” Mercedes giggles, “but thank you. Turn out the lights, okay?” Emmeryn nods and one by one the lanterns in the room extinguish themselves, leaving them in complete darkness. “Give me just a moment.”

Slowly, a little bluish-white light appears, concentrated in Mercedes’ hand. Her hair glows silver just as it did in the moonlight, and the light reflects in her eyes like stars, and suddenly it becomes stars, breaking off into little sparkly fragments and dancing up towards the ceiling where they settle into familiar constellations, twinkling and blinking every so often.

“Oh, Mercie…” Emmeryn breathes. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s just a little trick I learned when I was young. My brother couldn’t sleep without the stars on his ceiling…” Her smile is sad for a moment, but she quickly recovers and beckons Emmeryn over with her free hand. Emmeryn never knew that she had a brother, but she senses that Mercedes doesn’t want to talk about that, so she is silent as she shifts and moves across the tub to sit next to her. She’s acutely aware of how close they are, and just how much of them is touching as they squeeze together, but all thoughts of that fall away as Mercedes gets her attention once again by gently rolling the remaining ball of light into her hand. “We can’t forget the full moon, of course.” The moon, or at least, the stars that will make the moon, feel warm in Emmeryn’s hand, and flutter a little as Mercedes lazily circles her hand above them, and the ball shrinks, compacting into a small, smooth ball of light with little dark patches just like the real moon. “And one, two…” She places a hand under Emmeryn’s, and bobs it up and down with each little count, making the moon bounce higher and higher. “...and three.” It sails into the miniature sky above them and takes its place in a corner, lighting the room a little bit better.

“This is amazing, Mercedes. You truly have a talent for magic.”

“You think so?” she smiles. “My stepfather didn’t. He… Oh, never mind that.”

“If you want to talk about it, you can. I don’t mind.”

“Later. I’d rather just enjoy my time with you.”

Emmeryn nods and snuggles a little closer to Mercedes, closer than she ever thought she’d dare, and lays her head on her shoulder. Mercedes’ arm is around her all of a sudden, and its weight feels comfortable and reassuring as Mercedes leans her head against Emmeryn’s. Their hair floats between the bubbles and intertwines as little waves rock the water, and they spend the rest of the bath talking quietly about constellations and spells and bubbles, waiting until the water is nearly cold to get out. Emmeryn offers Mercedes a towel before grabbing her own, and while she’s drying off, Mercedes suddenly throws her towel over Emmeryn’s head and musses her hair, and Emmeryn laughs so hard that she snorts.

They’re in bed before they know it, their hair dried by a spell and each wearing one of Emmeryn’s nightgowns. It’s a little big on Mercedes, but she insists it’s comfy when it’s a little roomy and jumps onto Emmeryn’s bed before she can even try any sort of shrinking spell. She pulls her into a quick hug once she gets on the bed, making her shriek a little in surprise, and then they laugh together as Emmeryn realizes just how tired she is, and how warm Mercedes is and how comfortable the bed feels with her in it. Mercedes mumbles something as she settles snugly into Emmeryn’s arms, her lips curved into a tiny, sleepy smile.

“What was that?” Emmeryn asks, giving Mercedes’ silky hair a few gentle strokes.

“I said, ‘Good night, pumpkin,’” Mercedes explains. “And good night to you, too.”

“Good night, Mercie,” Emmeryn smiles, and she feels sleep tugging at her, urging her to follow it as she lays in Mercedes’ warm embrace in the darkness, lit only by the stars outside. The last thing she remembers is how soft and gentle Mercedes’ breath is, like a spring breeze dusting over her cheeks. She smells like roses.

Emmeryn didn’t follow her usual schedule tonight, but, she decides, it was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the wise words of Sappho: get u a gf and nap on her tiddy


	4. music / tea / cocoa

The tavern is as busy and rowdy as ever, but Anna never has a hard time keeping up. She can’t dilly-dally, after all, when there’s customers to be served and money to be made. She’s gotten used to it, but still, sometimes it _ would _ be nice to take a break. That won’t happen tonight, however, because one of the assistant professors at the Witch’s Academy, a songstress by the name of Dorothea, is going to be performing, and everyone is arriving early to get a good table. That also means they’re getting drunk earlier than usual, which means they’re more to handle, but it keeps the money rolling in, so Anna’s figured out more than a few tricks to keep them under control.

Her husband, Jake, is helping her by cooking and serving up food. He’s even better with customers than she is- well, better at serving them, less at getting money out of them- and he’s perhaps a tad too generous, but it’s one of the things she loves about him. At the end of the day, the only gold she truly needs is his heart of gold.

Anna’s manning the bar when the trickle of customers starts to slow to a crawl, and then ceases altogether for a few minutes. Everyone seems content with their drinks and their food, and it’s a nice spot of peace, so she takes the opportunity to sit on the stool where she can look into the kitchen where Jake is finishing up a dish.

“Need any help, honey?” she asks, and he only briefly looks up at her with a smile. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just about done.” It’s barely a minute before he plates it, and emerges from the kitchen, giving his wife a quick kiss before he delivers the dish. When he returns, he wipes his hands on his apron, and leans against the counter, placing an arm around Anna. “Things are finally slowing down, it seems.”

“Hopefully they don’t stay _ too _ slow,” she pouts, and Jake tweaks her nose playfully. His hands are rough and calloused from years of hard work, but they’re always gentle with her.

“Aw, we’ve made enough today. Think about it. That lass from the Academy is singing, and, you know, if it stays slow, maybe we could…” He stands up and does an awkward little off-tempo shuffle. “You know?”

“_Only _ if it stays slow. But yes,” she nods, pulling him down for another quick kiss, “I would love to dance with you.”

Their conversation is interrupted when the bell at the door jingles, and two young blonde witches come in, one with her voluminous hair tied into a low ponytail, and the other with twin curls on each side of her head. The first has a rose in her hair and roses on her ears, and the other has sunflowers decorating her hat.

Rose- for that is what Anna decides to call her in her head, because she admits she doesn’t make it a habit to learn customer names- is holding the other woman’s hand- Sunflower, in Anna’s head- and chattering excitedly. She pulls her up excitedly to the counter, saying something about how she can’t believe that she’s never heard Miss Dorothea sing. Anna remembers when she was that young and energetic, and well, not to say that she’s not still energetic, but she certainly isn’t as young, and she keeps her groan to herself as she goes to get off the stool. Jake stops her with a soft touch to her thigh and a nod, signalling that he would serve the two women, and Anna nods with a grateful sigh.

She faintly hears Rose ordering two drinks, a cup of cocoa, extra sweet, if you please, and a cup of tea, with more cream than sugar. Sunflower is already sliding coins across the counter to pay, but Rose playfully swats her hand and tells her to not even think about it. Sunflower insists that she at least pay for her own drink, but again Rose shakes her head, and then, with a sly smirk, yanks her hat down over her eyes and pushes the coins back into her pouch. Sunflower doesn’t make a move to fix it, and says something that Anna can’t hear, and Rose, after quickly passing a few coins of her own to Jake, places her hands on her arms and directs her to a table, telling him that she’ll be right back to ask about dinner.

“Sweet lasses,” Jake says as he walks back to Anna to drop the coins in her hand. She locks them away in a box beneath the counter as he talks. “They remind me of you and I, you know, on our first date.”

“That was our second date,” Anna says. “I robbed you blind on the first one.”

He chuckles, a deep, throaty sound, as he leans against the counter next to his wife. “That wasn’t a date. That was just a robbery.”

“Yes, but I winked at you. I was flirting.”

“A flirtatious robbery.”

“An accidental date and robbery combo.”

“Not a date.” He lifts her hand and kisses it. “But remember that dinner we had?”

“It was awful,” she laughs. “And you said, ‘I could cook a better meal if I only had pig slop and a handful of salt.’”

“Did I? I don’t remember that.”

“You did, and I was utterly charmed.”

“You… wait, that was what did it? _ That _?”

“If you want to know, you’ll have to pay a fee.” She tilts her head and puckers her lips, patiently waiting. This is something they’ve done so many times over the years, a little private game that never gets old.

“You drive a hard bargain, but… I think I can swing it.” He leans in and kisses her. “So? My answer?”

“Hmm… I think the price has gone up.”

“Really? It has?” He fakes confusion and consternation. “Hmmm… doesn’t seem very fair, but… This is valuable information I’m asking for. I’ll give.” He kisses her again, then twice more for good measure.

“Ooh, generous,” she giggles. “Alright, I’ll tell you. No, that wasn’t it, but it did help. I liked your confidence. I think what did it was…” Rose is back at other end of the counter again, waiting patiently. “Oh. Customer.”

He nods and returns to her to talk, but Anna pays less attention to their conversation and more to Sunflower, sitting at the table. Her hat is back up where it belongs and her hair smoothed back out, and she’s resting her cheek on her hand, watching Rose at the bar. Her demeanor is composed and her smile is calm, but in her eyes Anna can see the excitement of young love as she waits for her companion to return to her. It does remind her of her and Jake’s first date, when she walked into that tavern to find him waiting for her, already utterly charmed. Yes, she stole from him, but he found her and got the money back, and then immediately, stumbling over his words, told her that was a pretty lass, and quick with a sword, and wouldn’t she please come have dinner with him at the tavern that night? If Anna hadn’t been so shocked, she probably wouldn’t have said yes, but to this day she is so glad that she did. 

Rose is returning to Sunflower, and Jake to her. The dinner order must be sorted out, then. “I’m thinking a dessert on the house for the two lasses,” Jake says. “It’s their first time out together, and they seem like such sweet girls.”

He’s such a softie, and Anna can’t help but smile. “Alright, alright. But just this once.” That was what charmed her, so long ago. His kindness.

With a peck on the cheek, Jake retreats back to the kitchen, and Anna looks back over at Rose and Sunflower. Their hands rest on the table, so close to touching, and they’re both smiling as they talk. It’s a sweet moment, and Anna remembers the first time she held Jake’s hand, feeling a little nervous and giddy at the same time. A customer calls her name, asking for more drinks, and she stands up, ready to get back to business.

* * *

“Are you sure we should be doing this?”

Chrom’s voice is hushed and nervous, and it makes Lissa roll her eyes. She’s already regretting bringing him along.

“It’s fine, Chrom.”

“But what if she sees us?”

“She won’t see us. She’s too busy looking at Mercedes.” A quick glance over at Emmeryn and Mercedes’ table in the tavern immediately confirms this. Neither of them look like they’ll be taking their eyes off each other any time soon.

“I don’t think we should be spying on her.”

“We’re not spying,” Lissa insists. “They’re in a public place that we just so happen to be in at the same time. That’s all.”

“And we happen to be watching them.”

“Chroooom! It’s fine!”

“Shh!”

Alright, that was a bit loud, Lissa admits, so she hushes down. They’re sitting at a table in a dark corner, and have been for the past hour, waiting for Emmeryn and Mercedes to show up. Now they’re here, and Lissa is intent upon not missing a single moment. Emmeryn didn’t say this was a date, in fact, she barely said anything at all beyond the fact that she would be going to the tavern with Mercedes tonight, but Lissa knows that it’s a date. It has to be. Emm has spent far too much time in the past weeks smiling dreamily for no reason, and too much time hanging around Mercedes and holding her hand, and too much time humming that particular tune that Lissa always hears Mercedes hum in Professor Dedue’s class, for it not to be a date. Mercedes is a very nice girl and all, but her big sister only deserves the best, and it’s very important to determine if Mercedes is indeed the best, or at least, that’s what Maribelle said. Before, things weren’t as serious, so Maribelle didn’t think it was worth investigating, but once she learned they were going on a date, she insisted that investigation was paramount.

Maribelle couldn’t come tonight, but she did give Lissa a list of things to look out for, which she has in front of her now. It’s rather extensive and mostly to do with watching for Mercedes’ table manners, but there’s also a list of indications as to whether or not Emm is enjoying her date for Lissa to watch for. Chrom rather assuredly told Lissa earlier that he thinks Maribelle’s list is frankly ridiculously, because table manners (of which he barely has any) aren’t that important, in his opinion, and that it’s too hard to judge Emm’s reactions from afar anyways, because they’re always so slight and subtle that sometimes they’re hard to read even up close. Lissa’s starting to think that Chrom is only here to stop her from effectively accomplishing her mission, and possibly compromise it. He’s just as protective of Emmeryn as Lissa is, perhaps even more so, but he’s already made it clear that he doesn’t like what he calls “spying.” 

Right now, everything is going smoothly- Mercedes did leave Emm alone at the table for a few minutes, but it seems she was only ordering dinner, and from what Lissa could tell she didn’t seem too perturbed by it, so she’ll let it slide. Now they’re sitting together and talking, their hands so close to touching, and Lissa mentally takes notes on Mercedes’ posture to tell Maribelle later. She won’t admit it out loud to Chrom, but she does agree to some extent that Maribelle’s list is ridiculous, because really, no one is going to have perfect manners _ all _ the time. Lissa herself doesn’t, and even right now Emm is failing half of Maribelle’s requirements. She looks positively glowing, though, and her smile is so bright as she talks to Mercedes that Lissa has a good feeling about this. This is half of why she’s here, truthfully, because she just wants to see her sister happy.

Growing up, Emmeryn always smiled, no matter how hard things got for their family. She was a source of calm and serenity and warmth, and she still is, but Lissa knows that her smile is sometimes just a clever front to mask her true emotions. Lissa’s learned to see right through it over the years, and what makes her happiest right now is that she can tell it’s completely genuine. Mercedes makes Emm sincerely happy, and in Lissa’s book, that’s enough to make her not worry anymore.

One of the tavernkeeps, the man, comes out of the kitchen with their food, and Lissa flips over Maribell’s list to find the list she had written down earlier of the tavern’s food. Maribelle told her to pay special attention to what was ordered if Mercedes was the one doing it (Maribelle told her to look out for a lot of things that aren’t on her list, over half of which Lissa admittedly doesn’t remember), and it seems to check out. Emmeryn has what looks to be the spicy beef stew, which fits her tastes well, and Mercedes has something that looks like fish.

“Emm looks happy,” Chrom says, and Lissa nods. “I don’t think we need to worry.”

“True, but I just want to see. What if things go wrong? Besides, it’s nice to see her this happy.”

“Well, I guess… I still think it’s-“

“No, nope, don’t say it.”

“Excuse me?” a gentle voice interrupts them, and Lissa looks up to see a familiar face. Libra. “Do you mind if I join you?”

Chrom is immediately flustered. “Libra! Of course!” He scooches over to make room, and Libra sits next to him. Libra reminds her a lot of Emmeryn, very graceful and serene most of the time, but she feels like there’s definitely more than meets the eye. He’s unfairly pretty and, most significantly, Chrom has a definite crush on him, which means she has an opportunity to have a bit of fun while still keeping an eye on Emm. Being a nosy little sister isn’t the easiest job, but it is a burden that Lissa is quite willing to carry for the rest of her family.

“Thank you.”

Lissa’s about to start causing mischief (because really, she’s tired of Chrom skirting around his feelings like a blushing milkmaid), but she’s momentarily distracted when she glances over at Emm and Mercedes. They’re sitting closer together now, their shoulders touching and their heads nearly doing the same, and giving each other bites of their dishes. Mercedes fans at herself, valiantly trying not to react at the no doubt spicy bite from Emm’s, and Lissa can see that Emm is laughing as she does a little wave of her hand in front of Mercedes’ mouth reminiscent of the motions of a spell. It seems to have been just that, for Mercedes looks relieved and her mouth has apparently cooled down.

Chrom and Libra are talking quietly on the other side of the table as Libra shows Chrom his sketchbook. He’s a student of holy magic, but he’s also quite the artist, even if he’s humble about it. He rarely shows anyone his sketchbook, so it’s quite significant that he’s so willing to show Chrom. Lissa could say something. She really could. She decides she’s going to.

“You know, Libra, if you ever need someone to model for you, Chrom’s always free.”

“If Chrom wishes to do so, he can inform me himself,” Libra replies, completely unfazed. Chrom is less so.

“I mean, if you, uh, want me to I can,” he stutters, shooting a glare at his sister. Lissa only smiles innocently.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“He told me that he wanted to do it _ naked _,” Lissa smirks, putting heavy emphasis on the last word.

“I did not!” Chrom says, kicking her under the table.

“Would you do it?” Libra asks, completely deadpan, and Chrom can’t seem to find the words to respond before Libra laughs and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t ask you to, of course.”

“Oh. Right,” Chrom laughs awkwardly. “Right.”

Lissa glances back over at Mercedes and Emmeryn, thoroughly satisfied by the team effort that bit of teasing became. They’re still working on their dinner, and for a moment it looks like they’re leaning in to kiss, but they stop, and Emm says something, and they awkwardly pull away. Darn. They should have gone for it, in Lissa’s opinion.

“I didn’t know your sister was here,” Libra says, craning his neck to see. “Why aren’t you sitting with her?”

“She’s on a date,” Lissa explains. “Not _ officially _, but, you know. There’s no way it’s not a date.”

“...so why are you here?”

“To spy on her,” Chrom says before Lissa can respond. “It was Lissa and Maribelle’s idea.”

“It’s not spying,” Lissa huffs, crossing her arms. “It’s chaperoning.”

“Ah. So spying,” Libra nods.

“Thank you!” Chrom says, giving Libra a hearty pat on the shoulder. “That’s what I said.”

“I just said it’s not!” Lissa protests, and suddenly she is having much less fun.

Libra and Chrom go back to their conversation, and Lissa sits and turns her attention back to Mercedes and Emmeryn. They finish their food, and the tavernkeep is back again to clear their plates and give them dessert. They both look confused, and he says something, and Emmeryn is graciously smiling and nodding while Mercedes replies. There’s only one dish, Lissa notes, of something that looks like sorbet, and she suddenly likes this guy immensely. He obviously knows what’s going on and is giving them some much needed encouragement and excuse to be as close as possible. Lissa thinks she might have to ally with him in the future. 

* * *

Dorothea isn’t nervous about tonight’s performance. Stage fright hasn’t troubled her in quite a while, and a tavern such as this, to be honest, would be the last thing that could inspire such a thing. She’s used to fancier venues, but she doesn’t mind this; she knows the townspeople and students will enjoy it. She remembers days where something as simple as this would be all she could look forward to, but that is not the case now. She’s an assistant professor at the Witch’s Academy and a celebrated performer, and engaged to the love of her life. Things have truly turned around.

Said love of her life, Edelgard, is standing to the side of the little platform in the tavern as Dorothea walks up the stairs onto it. She looks so confident and self-assured, standing there with her pretty white hair in buns and the rest of her in a red suit. Compared to the rest of the tavern crowd, she’s overdressed, but so is Dorothea, and she thinks it’s fitting. Why shouldn’t they dazzle everyone? One day, when they’re married, she’s going to write an opera about her, no matter how much she may protest.

The first few songs are operatic and impressive, because if she’s going to perform, then why not show off her best? She glances over the tavern’s patrons as she does, seeing what kind of crowd there is. There’s not many people she recognizes, except a few academy students. There’s a group of three in one corner, one with a sketchbook who she thinks is named Libra, and next to him is Chrom, who does a stellar job in Manuela’s musical magic class, and a girl she doesn’t recognize. At a table towards the center of the room are two young academy witches sharing sorbet, and it makes Dorothea smile a little when she sees them. She can still fondly remember Edelgard saying how much she loved the food the first time they shared that together. That was when they were young and in training at the academy themselves, so many years ago. How things had changed.

The next songs are upbeat, songs meant for dancing. She remembers pulling Edelgard out onto the dance floor, saying, “Dance with me, Edie!” and they did. Edelgard was a bit of a stiff dancer back then, and she still is, but Dorothea knows how to make her loosen up. She’s still not very good at the wild folk-type dances that most of the tavern’s occupants are now joining in, but that’s alright, because she likes it better when they can move slowly and hold each other close.

One of the students, the one with her hair in a ponytail, stands and offers her hand to the other woman, gesturing to the dance floor, and at first she looks hesitant, then takes her hand. They’re lost among the throng of other dancers, and Dorothea keeps singing.

At some point, she sees the two women again, but now the other has pulled her hair back into a loose side ponytail as well. It reminds her of the time she convinced Edelgard to style her hair like that for a day, and she looked absolutely darling. She blushed when Dorothea told her so.

Towards the end of the night, when things are winding down and everyone is tired, Dorothea sings a few more songs, slower this time. Most people have left, including the three students in the corner, and the two tavernkeeps come out and dance with each other now that they’re not so busy. Edelgard still leans against the wall by the stage, her arms folded but a small smile on her face. The two women are dancing still, but much more slowly, and the one who first had a ponytail is resting her head on the other’s shoulder, her eyes closed and a contented smile on her face. When the music finally stops, they are reluctant to break apart, and don’t do so more than necessary- just enough to leave with an arm around each other.

Dorothea descends the steps, and Edelgard greets her with a kiss, and for one, sweet moment, all is right with the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, gay: *puts Edelgard in a suit*
> 
> also as a meddling little sister myself i relate to Lissa on a spiritual level


	5. ghosts / skeleton / cats

Marth has been dead for well over nine hundred years, and he’s very comfortable with his afterlife in the underworld, thank you very much. He lived over three hundred years, with magic fueling an unnaturally long lifespan, but he is glad for the chance to rest with his wife and the increasing generations of their descendants coming to the underworld. It’s rather peaceful, contrary to popular belief, and strange things almost never happen.

Today, however, it’s different. He wakes up on an unfamiliar bed, in a room he doesn’t know, but he isn’t too perturbed by it at first. In fact, he feels rather satisfied with his nap, and he stretches as he finishes waking up, then bends down his head to lick his- wait. He has a paw, not a hand. Suddenly, he is much more perturbed.

Nothing in this room feels right; in fact, it all looks too big, now that he looks around, and his body- something he hasn’t had in nearly a millennium- feels all arranged wrong compared to how he remembers it, as if someone mixed up where the limbs should go and how the nose should feel, and added something extra right above his posterior. He takes a tentative step forward, and everything feels wrong, wrong, wrong, because those are paws, not hands or feet, and he slowly sinks back down onto the bed, utterly confused. In his many years of life and afterlife, nothing like this has ever happened.

He gets up again and takes another step forward, then pricks his ears when he hears a voice, soft and mumbling but nonetheless there. It’s coming from another room, the bathroom, it seems, and he jumps off the bed to explore. Most fortunately, he’s adjusting quickly to this strange body, and so he uses it to dart into the bathroom. A young blue-haired witch stands in front of the mirror, arranging his hair and muttering spells as he does. The spells aren’t working on his hair, but they’re working on everything else, from what Marth can tell. There are several odd objects in the room pulsing with magical energy, most likely from recent transformations, and the toilet seems to be spontaneously combusting every few seconds. The witch doesn’t notice any of these things at all. He’s too busy with his hair, especially one particularly stubborn bit that won’t stay down and neat. In Marth’s opinion, he should perhaps focus less on the mess that is his hair and the mess that is his outfit, considering the fact that it’s missing a sleeve. It takes a moment for Marth to realize that it’s regrettably an intentional choice.

Marth jumps onto the counter, and as he does, he notices a familiar birthmark on his arm. Could that be…? No... Oh gods above, it is. The Brand of the Exalt on his arm clearly marks him as one of Marth’s descendents, and he’s still trying to process that information as the witch starts talking.

“Hey buddy!” The witch flashes him a quick glance and smile.“Guess what? I’m going to see Libra today.” It takes Marth a moment to understand that the witch is addressing him, and in that moment he looks around, trying to find the addressee, and catches sight of himself in the mirror. There’s a fat orange tabby staring back at him, with a makeshift collar fashioned out of an old bit of leather and a dented bell. He jumps back in surprise, immediately sliding off the counter and onto the floor, feeling all his hair- or rather, his fur- stand on end. “Hey, what’s wrong?” The witch stops what he’s doing to look down at his cat, concern on his face. “You okay, buddy?”

Marth tries to say something, but it only comes out as a distressed meow, and the witch is even more perplexed. “Wait, did… Oh no! My magic misfired again, didn’t it?” He scoops Marth up into his arms. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure out what’s wrong! I know someone who can help!”

He’s running out of the room before Marth can do anything to stop him. The toilet is still on fire.

* * *

“Marianne! There you are!”

Marth is feeling dizzy from the journey, and it only gets worse when the witch unceremoniously dumps him on the table in front of another young witch with sky blue hair. If he was an ordinary cat, he surely would have landed on all four feet, but Marth is not, and so he simply falls like a lump of dough onto the wood.

“Um… hello, Chrom.” So that’s his name. The girl- Marianne, Marth assumes- looks positively terrified. “Is everything alright?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I need your help. I was doing some spells in my room just now, but I think the magic misfired, and now my cat is acting strange. I think he might be ill.”

“He’s ill? Oh… I’m sorry.”

“You’re great with animals, Marianne. You can help him, right?”

“I’m sorry… I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to get involved. I bring bad luck everywhere I go… I might kill your cat.”

“Don’t say that! You’re not unlucky. I bet you could-” Marth has recovered by this point, and he suddenly gets up and runs off the table, trying to run out of the hall. Things are starting to come together in his head, and he thinks he knows how to solve this problem, but having Chrom fussing over him, no matter how well-intentioned he is, isn’t going to be very conducive to returning himself to the underworld and the cat back to Chrom as quickly as possible. He can hear Chrom knocking over a table trying to chase after him, and so he darts out the door as soon as possible, when another unsuspecting student opens it, and hides in the shrubbery. Chrom is outside again in a second, calling for the cat, and then he runs off in the wrong direction, much to Marth’s relief. He waits a few minutes for things to die down, then sneaks off to a quieter part of the grounds. He needs some time to think.

The pieces have almost entirely fallen together by the time that he comes to a stop, jumping on a stone bench and sitting in the sunlight. He’s been summoned from the underworld, that much is certain, and entirely by accident, it seems. He feels a little rush of pride when he thinks about that, because summoning spirits is a difficult task requiring much power, and Chrom being able to do it accidentally is impressive. He’ll be a great witch someday, certainly, if he can learn to control his magic, and a kind one, from what Marth can tell. He’s proud to know that they’re family.

Shaking his head, Marth cuts off his rambling thoughts and licks his paw, washing his ear with it as he gets back to the main point. So he’s been summoned, and from what he remembers when he studied this subject centuries ago, spirits must have some sort of vessel that is either alive or was once alive in order to stay in the mortal world. Whatever is closest to the caster and offers the least resistance to possession will almost certainly become the vessel, just as the cat did. 

Next is the issue of how to get back. There’s a complicated ritual for sending spirits back to the underworld that he performed a few times in his life, and he admits that he doesn’t quite remember it, but he does know that he’ll need a more humanoid form in order to perform it. He’s never heard of a spirit sending themselves back, but he’s sure it can be done. There’s a few people that he knows are still alive that he would trust to perform the ritual, but he has no idea where they are; besides that, he doesn’t know of anyone he could trust to do it, or would even be able to do it. He remembers the ritual as being difficult, even for him when he was several hundred years old, and he knows that most witches don’t live that long these days. It’s rather commendable of them, in his opinion- it means they’re using magic more responsibly and not constantly flooding themselves with magical energy as a result of overpowered spells.

The trouble, however, is acquiring that humanoid form. He’s certain that he could easily possess most of the people here, but the thought of overriding another being’s free will like that is so reprehensible that he doesn’t consider it for more than a moment. Possessing Chrom’s poor cat is bad enough, but at this point he doesn’t have a choice. A skeleton will probably suffice, he thinks, as long as it’s relatively whole, and he knows that there are several in the dungeons beneath the academy (he’s recognized where he is by now, because he did assist with establishing this school when he was alive, after all, and he also knows that the castle was used for all sorts of heinous things back in the day. There were a lot of heinous things happening in the world at that time, things he doesn’t like to think about, but he takes comfort in the fact that the world is better off now).

Getting to the dungeons is another problem, for he knows that they are sealed by ancient magic that no one probably knows anymore and can only be opened by a witch. The ancient magic isn’t a problem, for he remembers all the spells, and they are fortunately quite easy. The fact that only a witch can undo the seals is the problem, because the form he would need to undo it himself is unfortunately locked behind those very seals. He’ll have to find someone to do it for him, but to have someone do it for him means he’ll have to be able to communicate with them. There’s a spell that he knows that should allow him to speak, but it requires hands to perform.

He flops down on the bench with a frustrated sigh, trying to figure out this last piece of the puzzle. Whether it is his host feeling it or a side effect of his travel between realms, Marth suddenly feels tired, and the sun feels so very good, and he doesn’t think it will hurt for a moment to just close his eyes and…

* * *

The academy grounds are beautiful in the fall, but to Mercedes, they only look like blurry clouds of color dancing in front of her eyes. The crinkle of the parchment in her hands sounds so loud, too loud, and it drowns out the birds in the air and the dead leaves below her. She can feel the sobs rising in her throat, but try as she might, she can’t keep them down, and they come tearing out of her like a wind through the trees in the forest, cold and biting and destructive.

She sinks onto a bench and cries, narrowly avoiding the sleeping cat stretched out onto it. This is her fault, she knows, all because she wasn’t there. “Emile… why?” she mumbles, and the crumpled letter falls to the ground, the awful letter telling her how he missed her, how he finally found her again, and how in their time apart he had found great comfort and power in the study of dark magic for several years. There is a reason that that magic isn’t taught at the academy, a reason that most witches never learn it, a reason that the first word that everyone says when someone asks about it is “don’t.” It’s dangerous enough for an experienced witch to dabble in it, let alone her brother, only a year younger than her, and if he has been studying it for years… she knows that it must have consumed him already, if not completely then nearly so, and she knows that maybe, if she had been there, if she had shown him the stars on his ceiling a few more times, things wouldn’t be this way. Her brother wouldn’t be as good as dead. 

Suddenly, she feels something soft bumping against her arm, and she looks down to see that the cat is awake now and bumping its head against her. “Oh… hello.” The cat climbs onto her lap and settles down before looking up at her with what almost seems like concern. “I’m sorry, kitty. I didn’t mean to wake you.” She gives it a few scratches behind the ears, and it seems pleased. “I just got some bad news about my brother.” The cat rubs its head against her hand, and she keeps absentmindedly petting it. “I wish… There’s so much I wish I could change. If only I had stayed with him…” Her hand falls still. “Well, there’s nothing to be done now. Perhaps…” 

The cat is meowing now. “Oh, I’m sorry. Here.” She goes back to petting it, glad that she’s not alone. Just having the cat there is making her feel a bit better. Strangely, the cat doesn’t stop meowing. “You’re a chatty one, aren’t you?” she smiles.

“I’m sorry about your brother.”

“It’s- huh?” She looks around, trying to find who spoke. “Who said that?”

The cat taps her arm. “I did.” She stares down at the cat, dumbfounded. She’s never heard of any magic than can make animals talk. “Well, technically not me. I mean, not the cat. I’m not a cat. I’m just… borrowing this body for a while. It wasn’t intentional, of course, but, well, the circumstances were out of my control. I feel rather bad about it, to be honest... It’s fortunate that I remembered that vocal projection spell, and even more so that I was able to get it to work without hands… but never mind that now. Perhaps it’s a little bold of me to ask, but, are you alright?”

Mercedes stares at the cat, not sure what to think, and then she bursts out laughing. She laughs so hard that she cries, and suddenly she feels much better. The worries aren’t gone, of course, but in this moment, everything seems a little bit brighter.

The cat seems puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, well, there’s plenty of things wrong, but…” She wiped at her eyes. “It’s okay for now. I’ve never met a talking cat before. It’s just… it’s so funny!” She is laughing again, and then she is sobbing. Her emotions are a mess, bubbling over into tears and laughter with no rhyme or reason. It eventually turns into pure sobs again, and she bends over, hugging herself tightly.

“Just let it all out. Crying is good for you.”

She nods. “I’m just so worried about Emile…”

“If you need to talk about it, feel free to do so. I’d be more than happy to listen.”

She shakes her head ever so slightly. “No… I’d rather not discuss it. Besides, I don’t even know your name. I’m Mercedes. And you are?”

“My name is Marth.” He nods his head in a little flourish reminiscent of a bow. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Marth.”

“And you as well. I’m sorry to have intruded.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it. Technically, I was the one interrupting your nap, wasn’t I?” She laughs a little. “Besides, I’m glad you’re here. I feel a lot better now.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

There’s silence for a moment, and Mercedes realizes something. “So tell me, what are you really? You said you were borrowing the cat’s body earlier. What does that mean?”

“I’m actually a ghost. One of the students here- Chrom, I think, was his name- accidentally summoned me. I’m not quite sure how he managed that, but here we are.”

“A ghost? How fun! I’ve always wanted to meet a ghost!” For a moment, she forgets about Emile in her excitement.

“Really? What a fortunate coincidence.”

“Oh, I bet Emmeryn would love to meet you!” Unthinking, Mercedes gathers him up in her arms and stands, ready to leave, but she hesitates. “Wait. I didn’t ask you, did I? I apologize. That was very rude of me.”

“It’s quite alright. This is an exciting opportunity, after all. I can understand your eagerness. Is she a ghost enthusiast as well?” He wriggles a little in her arms, probably trying to get comfortable, she thinks, and she adjusts her hold on him.

“Not quite, but she’s…” Mercedes thinks for a moment. She knows how she truly feels about Emmeryn, but they’ve never made clear what their relationship is. There had been so many times that Mercedes wished to say something, and she nearly had at the tavern a few weeks ago, but the time never seemed right. “She’s very special to me,” she finally settles on.

“I see.” He seems to be thinking for a moment. “Very well then. I’ll gladly visit her with you.”

“Really? You’re so kind! Thank you,” she smiles. “Are you sure this isn’t inconveniencing

you at all? I’m sure you’re very busy… doing whatever it is that ghosts do.”

“There’s not much I can do in this form,” he laughs, “so, no. Go ahead. I’d rather like to meet your friend.”

“Shall I carry you, or would you rather walk?”

“I admit, I’m not very used to this form yet, so if it’s not too much trouble…”

“Carrying it is then!”

The leaves crunch beneath Mercedes’ feet as she goes back inside, carrying Marth with her. The sound reminds her of Emile’s crumpled letter in her pocket, but she pushes down that thought before the tears come back.

* * *

The pumpkin from Mercedes and Emmeryn’s midnight adventure two months ago is still in her room, sitting as grandly as a throne between Emmeryn’s desk and wardrobe. They considered moving it to Mercedes’ room, and discussed it at length the day after, but in the end Emmeryn assured her that she didn’t mind keeping it in there, and so Mercedes emptied it of the flesh and seeds that afternoon before casting preserving and softening spells on it, turning it into quite the cushy chair. It is conveniently large enough for both of them to sit on it, and then often do. Emmeryn loves curling up with Mercedes when they’re doing schoolwork, or reading, or… at any time, really. She’ll take any opportunity to snuggle up with her. She makes her feel warm in a way that no one else does.

Today, Emmeryn is the sole occupant of the pumpkin, and she’s reading that week’s assigned chapter from a spellbook when Mercedes comes rushing in, holding Chrom’s cat in her arms. The lack of a knock is expected, for Emmeryn told Mercedes after their night spent pumpkin-picking that her door is always open to her, but the cat is a bit unexpected. From the delighted look on Mercedes’ face, she’s sure there’s a reason, but she’s a bit distracted from that by the fact that it looks like she’s recently been crying. Mercedes, however, doesn’t give her a chance to dwell on that.

“Emm! You won’t believe this!” She raises the cat aloft, and it looks a bit distressed by that. “I’ve met a real, live ghost! He’s possessing Chrom’s cat!” She sounds absolutely ecstatic. It makes sense, given how fond she is of ghost stories. “Well, not live, I suppose,” she giggles, “but very real!” 

“_ Please _ put me down,” the cat begs, and it takes Emmeryn a moment to register that it is indeed the cat speaking.

“Oh! My apologies.” She lowers him, holding him tightly to her, then plops down next to Emmeryn on the pumpkin. “His name is Marth!”

“Yes, it is,” the cat nods, slowly disentangling his claws from Mercedes’ shawl where he was clinging to her. He pauses to gaze intently at Emmeryn for a moment, but she only glances at him for a moment to look up at Mercedes. Now that she’s closer, she can definitely see that she was crying, and that worries her.

Emmeryn remembers her manners after a few seconds. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marth. My name is Emmeryn.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well.”

“So, may I ask, how did you end up possessing my brother’s cat?”

“Chrom is your brother? I see… Well, he accidentally summoned me from the underworld earlier today, and the possession was quite accidental, I assure you. I’d rather not override any living being’s free will, but that’s neither here nor there, because I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. I’m sorry, but…” Her lips curl involuntarily into a smile. “I’m not surprised. I do apologize for my brother. His magic is very powerful, but sometimes misdirected.”

“It’s understandable. He is young, and just needs a little guidance to learn how to focus it properly.”

“Yes, I agree.” Emmeryn’s usually a much better conversationalist than this, and there are many things she’d be interested in asking a ghost, but right now she’s preoccupied. Mercedes is over her initial excitement now, and is much more subdued. Something no doubt weighs heavy on her mind. 

When Emmeryn looks away from her and back to Marth, their eyes meet, and he gives her a little nod, seeming to realize that they need a moment. “By chance, do you have a map of the academy? It’s been a while since I was last here, so I’d like to refamiliarize myself with it.”

Emmeryn nods and waves her hand, beckoning to a certain scroll in a basket by her desk. It floats out, catching a bit on the basket’s edge along the way, then lays itself out on the floor, unrolling slowly.

“Thank you.” He jumps off of their laps and goes over to the map to study it.

Emmeryn turns back to Mercedes, placing a hand on her cheek. “Mercie… you were crying,” she says quietly. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, Emm… I received a letter from my brother.”

She nods, understanding what a sensitive topic this is. Mercedes loves her brother dearly, and she’s told Emmeryn many stories about him from when they were children, and she’s also told Emmeryn many times how much she regrets leaving him behind. They haven’t been in contact for many years, so this is surprising, but, judging by how Mercedes is reacting, it’s not a good surprise. “How is he?”

“Awful,” she says, a sob rising in her throat. “Absolutely awful. I’d rather not discuss it further right now, but, Emm, I’m so worried about him…”

Emmeryn hugs her tightly and carefully removes her hat, letting it gently float to the floor next to the pumpkin so that it won’t get in the way. Mercedes immediately collapses against her once she does, not crying, but holding onto Emmeryn tightly and burying her face in her chest. She rocks her gently, stroking her hair in a soft, comforting motion, and leans her head against hers. She’ll stay there as long as Mercedes needs her to, and there are several minutes of silence until she finally begins to pull away. Halfway through, Emmeryn leans forward to give her a kiss on her forehead, a sweet, soft motion that barely lasts more than a second. 

“Thank you,” Mercedes murmurs, and inhales deeply before sitting up again and smoothing out her skirt. She already knows what Emmeryn is going to ask, it seems, for she immediately follows with, “I’m fine now. Really, Emm.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Mercedes slides off the pumpkin and scoots across the floor to sit next to the map, which Marth is currently sitting on as he closely examines the part showing the sealed off dungeons. Emmeryn follows her over, but chooses to stand, walk, and sit down rather than Mercedes’ method. She seems to want to distract herself now. “So, Marth. How old are you exactly?”

“Well over a millenia.”

“Oh, wow! You must know so much!”

He flicks his tail, and sounds a little embarrassed. “About certain things, I suppose. I only lived a little over three hundred years.”

“_ Only _ three hundred?” Mercedes laughs. “That’s quite a bit longer than anyone I know!”

“You must have lived a long time ago, then,” Emmeryn says. “I haven’t heard of anyone living that long for centuries. And you must be a witch.”

“You’re correct on both points,” he says. “I died about nine hundred years ago, and I am indeed a witch.” He paces back and forth on the map. “A witch who’s quite anxious to go home, I admit. I miss my wife terribly already.”

“Of course,” Emmeryn nods. “You were pulled away from her rather abruptly, I’m sure. So how can we help?”

“Oh, my apologies. I did not mean to imply that I was asking for your aid. That was rather selfish of me. You both have your own worries at the moment, and I-”

“Please let us help you,” Mercedes begs. “It sounds like fun! It’s like being in the middle of a ghost story!”

“Gracious, are you quite certain? I would be very grateful, but I would hate to impose…”

“Quite certain!” she smiles. “What do you think, Emm?”

“I’d love to help,” she replies. The twinkle in Mercedes’ eye is back again, which she is glad of. Hopefully, this will put whatever happened with her brother from her mind, at least for the time being.

* * *

The library is quiet, save for the whispered conversation of Emmeryn and Mercedes, the crinkle of ancient pages, and periodic bouts of “hmmmm” and “I see, I see” from Marth. The two young witches brought him to the library to research the magical seals down in the academy’s dungeon. The magic of old is different in how it’s performed versus the magic of today, and so he needs to find a guide to help them perform the spells necessary to open the dungeon and seal it back up, in the unlikely event that they’re unable to find him a skeleton.

Mercedes and Emmeryn spread several books out on a table for him to search, and he’s looking through them now as they sit at one end of the table, looking through books of their own. They’re talking about something else as they search, and he can’t quite hear it, but there’s quite a bit of quiet laughter and smiles over there, which warms his heart.

He had recognized Emmeryn as family earlier from her Brand, and had it confirmed when she said that Chrom was her brother. It makes him quite proud to know that, of the family he’s met, the current generation seems to be turning out quite well. She doesn’t seem to know who he is, however, and any subtle questioning about her ancestors or even the academy founders was met with a shake of her head. At first he thought it was a bit odd, seeing as most of his descendants that arrived in the underworld knew who he was, but then she told him that they had been orphaned when she was nearly ten as an explanation. Not only did that explain her ignorance on the matter, but it also made him feel suddenly very responsible for her and her brother, despite the fact that they were both adults now. It pains him even now to think about, but he’s also proud to know that they managed to come through. He wants to get back home to the underworld, but at the same time… he’s considering a short delay to ensure that he can give them proper guidance, or find someone else to. Caeda will understand. At this point, however, he decides that he won’t press the matter of his identity- he doesn’t like how formal and stiff people tend to get around him once they recognize him.

“Marth, what about this?” Emmeryn beckons him over and points to a page covered in symbols and old writing. “I can’t read it, but this looks similar to what you were describing earlier.”

He trots over, weaving between the books so as not to step on them. “Hmm… that’s very similar, but not quite right. I think you’re onto something with this book.” He paws at the pages, semi-successfully turning them before Emmeryn helps. “There! Right there.” He taps one of the sigils on the page. “Most of the seals on the dungeon’s entrances are of this form. When you get further in, there are more complicated ones, but we shouldn’t need to go further than one, or even two.”

“Why are there so many seals?” Mercedes asks. “It seems like an awful lot of magic protection…” 

“Well, let’s just say it keeps the castle habitable. There’s a reason there are skeletons down there.” Emmeryn and Mercedes both stare at him in alarm. “Don’t worry! Where we’re going is perfectly safe. The preliminary seals are just to discourage people from going down there. Besides, the seals further in require a major Crest of Cethleann or Cichol to open, so no one can even go further to where it would be unsafe.” He’s not telling the truth, exactly, but it’s better for them to think that it’s dangerous than to try and explore further down there.

“Well, they certainly could discourage people… these are ancient magic. I don’t know anyone alive who could understand this!”

“Oh, I’m certain there are a few. Dragons, for example, or a witch with highly esoteric interests. There’s a reason it’s no longer used. I’ve been taught modern magic by recently deceased witches in the underworld, and it is _ much _more efficient. In the old days, we tended to use magic without regards to things like the conservation of magical energy or efficiency. Most methods of spellcasting taught nowadays are the result of rigorous calculations designed to conserve as much energy as possible, and to prevent witches from absorbing too much of it themselves. That was why we used to live so long, you see. That’s also why modern spells are so easy to cast. Ancient magic always had to be very precise, but nowadays you can do most anything with a simple wave of your hand and a direction of energy as long as you say the right words to activate the spell, or use the right materials. Ancient magic, on the other hand, is entirely nonvocal. It’s interesting to study how- ah. I’m rambling. Well, anyways, you’re going to have to learn the spells to break these seals, and to put them back again the old way in case we aren’t successful. I can read these passages out for you, and then-”

“Emm! You found my cat!” Chrom has just rounded a corner, and looks positively delighted. Libra is close on his heels. “There you are, buddy!” Before Marth can react, Chrom’s run over to the table and scooped him up, snuggling him close and giving him several kisses on the head and ears.

“Inside voice, Chrom,” Emm gently reminds him, and he nods sheepishly.

“Please put me down,” Marth says, and Chrom nearly drops him.

Introductions and explanations are quickly made as Chrom carefully sets Marth back down on the table, and he and Libra sit across the table from Mercedes and Emmeryn.

“Sorry about the whole… accidental summoning thing. I’ll do whatever I can to make it right,” Chrom says once the situation has been explained.

“It’s alright, Chrom. Accidents happen.”

“I think we have it covered,” Mercedes says. “You don’t have to worry yourself.”

“But it’s my fault,” Chrom protests.

“True, but helping a ghost is exciting! I’m having fun,” she giggles.

“Chrom does have a point,” Marth says. “In fact… now that I think about it, this will be a good learning experience for him. You have trouble with unintentional side effects and results from spells, yes?”

“Unfortunately…” he nods.

“I think that will change if the spells are nonvocal. Ancient magic requires precision and focus as well, and nothing can happen on accident if your gestures and diagrams aren’t just right. They simply won’t work. How does that sound?”

“Hmm… Difficult, but I’ll try it.”

“That’s the spirit! Now, the first spell that we need is…”

* * *

They spend nearly the entire day going over old spells and diagrams in the library, and both Mercedes and Emmeryn are exhausted by the end of it. Chrom is tired, too, but there’s a spring in his step as they say goodbye, heading off with Libra to grab a snack from the dining hall before going to bed. Marth follows Mercedes and Emmeryn back to the latter’s room at Mercedes’ request.

Mercedes enjoyed her time today, but she had trouble concentrating, for Emile weighed heavy on her mind, and he still does. She sinks down onto the pumpkin and Marth hops onto her lap, curling up with a quiet purr as she scratches his ears. Emmeryn’s already in the bathroom, getting ready for bed, and the quiet of the room without her thunders in Mercedes’ ears. When Emmeryn is with her and she’s worried about something, the silence is softened and comfortable, and her troubles ebb and flow like gentle waves on the shore. When she is gone, the silence roars like crashing waves in a storm, catching her at every turn and dragging her out further and further from the shore. She can’t stand to listen to her thoughts, and yet that is all she hears.

When she emerges in her nightgown, she comes over to Mercedes and stands behind her, then bends down and slides her arms around her shoulders. “Mercie, come to bed,” she asks, leaning her head against hers. They’ve been taking turns sleeping in each other’s rooms, depending on whose they happen to be in at bedtime, ever since that night at the pumpkin patch. Mercedes can’t think of anything better than spending the night in the arms of the woman she loves. Actually, she can, and that’s doing the exact same thing but with the small (or rather, very big) change of being able to tell Emmeryn how loved she is. She doesn’t know why she hasn’t said something yet, for she’s sure her feelings are returned, but every time she tries to, she seems to lose the right words and say something else instead. She could say something now, but it’s not the time. It seems it’s never the right time.

Emmeryn presses a little closer to her, now cheek to cheek. She smells of sweet oranges. “Mercie, please.”

“In a minute. I’m not too tired yet.”

“Yes, you are.” She lowers her voice so that not even Marth can hear. “And I know that letter is eating you up. You need rest.”

“In a minute,” she repeats, and Emmern reluctantly nods, pulling away. Mercedes misses her warmth already. However, moments later it’s replaced with a different kind of warmth as Emmeryn drapes a blanket around her shoulders.

“Do you want me to move him?” she asks, gesturing to Marth, still happily curled up on her lap and now beginning to take a bath. It seems the instincts of his host are still somewhat in control.

“No, he’s fine. You need rest too. Go to bed.”

“Promise you won’t stay up too long?”

“I promise.”

Emmeryn has always been quick to fall asleep, and tonight is no different. After she lays down, it doesn’t take long for Mercedes to hear the subtle shift in her breathing that indicates that she’s drifted off. 

She leans back onto the pumpkin with a sigh. Emile and how much she misses him is something she’s discussed tearfully with Emmeryn before, but the news of this morning is far worse than she ever imagined. She doesn’t feel ready to fully discuss it with her now, but she does have a few questions for Marth.

“Marth?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper so as not to wake Emmeryn. “What do you know of dark magic?”

He abruptly snaps to attention, stopping in the middle of his bath. “That is a very dangerous subject. You should never meddle with such things.”

“Oh, I’m not asking for me. I would never touch any of that. It’s…” She can already feel the tears coming, and for a moment she wishes that Emmeryn was still awake. “It’s my brother. I received a letter from him today, and I am afraid that he is nearly consumed by it.”

“Oh. My deepest apologies, Mercedes. It is not easy to watch anyone go through that, let alone family.”

“Is there anything we can do for him?”

“Alas, I wish I could say yes, but… listen well, Mercedes. I lived for over three hundred years, and if I learned anything in that time, it is this. Magic is not to be trifled with. It can do much good when it is used responsibly for good, by good people, but such power always has the potential to corrupt, or have unintended consequences even when used with the best of intentions, and certain kinds of magic carries more risks than others. Dark magic is the most dangerous. Any magic can consume a witch and transform them into a beast, but that is the most powerful, and the most uncontrollable. I myself had to use it on occasion, and I only did so after two hundred years of learning. It nearly destroyed me. I can only imagine what it may do to an overconfident young witch.”

“So… you’re saying that there’s no hope for him?” She sniffles, furiously wiping at the tears on her face.

“I cannot say for certain without meeting him myself, but I did dedicate many years trying to discover a way to free witches consumed by their magic. Not just dark magic, but also holy magic, and anima magic. I’m afraid that I only ever found one solution in such cases that would both free their souls and protect everyone else around them.”

“You had to kill them,” she whispers. She knew that is what he would have said, but she doesn’t want to hear it. It feels gentler when she says it, a sad but soft truth, as if she only said they were going to sleep.

“I’m afraid so. I urge you to remember that the next time you meet your brother, not only for your sake, but his own.” He is silent for a moment. “I’m sorry. That was callous of me.”

“No, it’s…” She wants to say, “It’s quite alright. I understand,” but she can’t get the words out, only sobs, and Marth places a paw on her arm, then rubs against her.

“I have heard that it can be very therapeutic to pet a cat. I know that I may be a poor replacement for an actual cat, but…”

“Thank you,” Mercedes nods, giggling despite herself as she gives him a few strokes. “It is, I think. Chrom’s cat is so soft…”

There’s the sound of shuffling fabric from the bed, and Mercedes looks up to see Emmeryn right before she sits down next to her on the pumpkin and hugs her wordlessly.

“It’s my brother again,” Mercedes quietly explains, and Emmeryn nods. She knows that Emmeryn knows that Mercedes will open up about it when she’s ready, so she continues hugging her in silence, and that means more to her than words ever could. Marth moves off of her lap, and she turns to hug Emmeryn fully, and cries into her arms until she can cry no more.

“Thank you,” she murmurs appreciatively, and Emmeryn simply nods as she finally calms down. “Do you want to come to bed?”

Mercedes nods, and Emmeryn scoops her up into her arms, carrying her over and gently setting her down. Mercedes doesn’t let go of her and drags her down with her, keeping a tight grip through the hug, and Emmeryn easily follows, staying with her the whole time. They fall asleep like that, tightly gripping each other as if the other would vanish if they let go.

* * *

It’s been a week since Marth arrived, and finally he says that they should be ready to enter the dungeon. They’ve been practicing as much as they can in their free time, all four of them (Chrom, Libra, Emmeryn, and Mercedes), but there hasn’t been much _ actual _practice- Marth advised against actually creating any seals lest they are unable to break them.

Now they are descending into the dungeon, armed with only their wits and more pieces of chalk than they probably need. It’s chilly and damp down here with the smell that tends to gather around undisturbed places, and makes Emmeryn shiver. She has to admit, it’s a little creepy.

She feels something touch her and jumps, then hears Mercedes’ laughter. “It’s just me, pumpkin,” she giggles. The pet name surprises Emmeryn perhaps more than her touch, but she pushes those thoughts aside as Mercedes wraps her shawl around her. “Are you cold? Or just scared?”

“I’m not scared. Only a little… creeped out.” It’s only half true, but Emmeryn isn’t sure which half _ is _ the truth. Maybe it depends on the moment. Mercedes’ shawl is delightfully warm, just like her, and Emmeryn is basking in the feeling when she grabs her hand.

“Don’t worry! I’ll hold your hand if you’re scared.” Her smile is brighter than any of the lanterns they have with them to light the way, and Emmeryn moves to walk a little closer to her and squeezes her hand a little more tightly.

“Thank you.”

She can hear Chrom whispering to Libra behind them, and she can’t help but laugh a little. He and Lissa have been in such a tizzy over her and Mercedes ever since that day at the greenhouse, and whenever something happens they’re always whispering to each other or whoever’s nearest. She thinks it’s sweet, how they’re so deeply invested in it.

Emmeryn has never had trouble speaking her mind, but Mercedes leaves her tongue-tied more often than not. They can talk freely about anything most of the time, except, well… She squeezes her hand a little tighter briefly, and Mercedes returns the gesture. It feels like a heartbeat. 

Mercedes herself has been a little closed off this week in regards to personal matters, which is fine- if she wishes to discuss it, then she will, at her own pace- but she can’t help but worry. She’s been overall cheery, and rather excited to have a ghost around and to be learning magic that probably no one else in the academy knows, but there’s been moments where she grows suddenly subdued, or her smile is a little forced. Even so, Emmeryn has done everything to be there for her that she can. 

They reach the first seal at the bottom of a staircase. They can’t see the seal itself, but the air is thrumming with magical energy. It feels different from what they’re used to, but at the same time so similar yet overwhelmingly strong. Emmeryn doesn’t think she’s ever felt a spell this strong. It’s harder to move in as well, and Marth says that if they continue forward they’ll eventually reach a standstill, and if they foolishly attempt to push past that the spell will fling them back and away. 

Libra, the designated drawer of sigils since no one else could do them correctly (Marth was a bit astounded at how shaky everyone’s lines were, but kept encouraging them to do their best even if Libra was the only one who consistently got it), starts drawing the appropriate marks on the wall in chalk with Marth’s direction. Chrom holds him up so that he can point out where Libra needs to mark next, and as he finishes the marks on the first circle, there’s a sound almost like a ringing bell and a pulse of light around the hallway’s walls.

“That means it’s working,” Marth nods approvingly.

“It’s strange that the sigils all have Crests in them,” Mercedes says as they watch. “I thought only people with Crests could use magic involving them.”

“Only people with Crests can harness the full power of Crest magic, but they don’t teach that at the academy for a reason. Trying to use a Crest spell to its full power without bearing the Crest can turn a witch into a beast, so they just avoid the topic altogether.”

“Oh…” Mercedes looks subdued again, and Emmeryn holds her hand a little tighter.

“This does mean that study of Crest magic has declined unless it’s passed down through families, but… It’s honestly no loss. Crests are the result of… Well, never mind that. Let’s just say they are an ill-gotten form of magic, and if they vanish, then so be it.”

“What about Brands?” Chrom asks. “I know that our Brand is different from Crests, but the only person who seems to be familiar with it is Professor Hanneman, and, uh… We avoid him like the plague. His research lab looks more like a torture chamber than anything.”

“Ha! Understandable. One of my best friends was an enthusiast of Crestology, and his methods were… dubious, at best. Brands are entirely different. Your family’s brand, the Mark of Naga, is a result of a blessing given by the goddess Naga for… an ancestor’s past deeds.”

“What sort of deeds?” Emmeryn asks. “And who?”

“Oh, I myself wouldn’t know. It is _ your _ family history, after all.”

Emmeryn nods, but she has a feeling that Marth knows more than he’s letting on. That hesitation when he answered makes her suspect a few things.

By now, Libra’s finally done drawing the sigil (a rather complex symbol with three circles around each other, with several Crests and other markings in between and along the edges, and a curiously bare center). “That should work well,” Marth says. “Now all you need to do is cast the spell. Remember, it takes two witches.”

“I’ll help,” Chrom says, and he sets Marth down.

“Place your hands on the sigil, and lift it off the wall.” The two young men nod and place their hands, roughly evenly spaced, along the edges of the outer circle as if they can grab onto it. If all goes well, they should be able to. However, nothing happens.

“Is something drawn wrong?” Libra asks, shaking his head a little to get his hair out of his face. Emmeryn doesn’t miss the way that Chrom watches that motion intently, and smiles a little to herself. “I’m sure that I did it like you said.”

“No, nothing is wrong,” Marth sighs. “I was just hoping that a general unlocking spell would work, but…” His tone was exasperated but fond as he continued. “Cichol…” 

“What was that?”

“You’re going to need to add one more thing. Well, two, technically. Sometimes seals require you to know specific symbols in order to unlock them. This one is, fortunately, a combination of two that you already know. You’re going to have to draw the Crest of Cichol in the center there.”

Libra nods and does so. “And the other?”

“The Mark of Naga. You see where the two branches begin on Cichol’s Crest? The two outside tips of the Mark of Naga should meet it there, and the teardrop shape in the center should be split in half by the line in the middle of the Crest.”

“Why is the Mark of Naga here?” Chrom asks, voicing the question that sits on the tip of Emmeryn’s tongue.

He hesitates again before answering. “One of the casters must have been one of your ancestors.”

“Huh…” Mercedes looks to be lost in thought. “Wait, if you know the seal, then wouldn’t you have known the casters? Or at least one of them? Or someone who told you?”

“There are many inevitable things in life, Mercedes, and one is that your memory won’t be what it used to, especially after nine centuries of being dead.”

“I guess that’s true.” She doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer. Emmeryn isn’t either.

Libra finishes drawing the symbol. “Okay, try again,” Marth tells them, and this time, it works. The sigil starts glowing and lifts off the wall in their hands, leaving behind the chalk drawing, but it looks somehow less vibrant and clear afterwards. “Now, take it to the center of the hallways, or thereabouts, and place it in the air. Good. Right there. Now, you’ll have to go circle by circle, and do the motions just as you learned.”

As they do so, the outer circle begins to slowly rotate, and after a few minutes comes to a sudden stop, and there’s again a sound of a bell, but thinner, as it vanishes. 

“Very good!” Marth says. “You’re doing well.”

“Is ancient magic _ always _ this exhausting?” Libra asks, giving his head another slight shake to move his hair out of the way. It barely works this time because of how much he’s been sweating.

“Well, we were used to it back then, so… My apologies. I didn’t consider that. Maybe you should take turns.”

“Can we even do that?” Chrom asks. He seems much less tired than Libra. “I thought we were in the middle of the spell.”

“The benefit of sigils is that spells are automatically segmented, so anyone can pick up where you left off, unless you lock them, or design them in such a way so that only you can use it. It was especially common practice with sigils meant for battle. Some of the easier to draw ones could end up having over 30 circles, if you can believe that. So, in short, yes, you can.”

Relieved, Chrom and Libra step aside, and Mercedes and Emmeryn step up. They take their positions, as Marth taught them, and begin with a series of hand signals. Almost immediately, Emmeryn feels the resistance, and it’s much stronger than any other spell she’s encountered in her life. She’s not sure if it’s due to the simple strength of the spell itself, or due to the fact that she’s not used to this kind of magic, or a combination of the two. She’s also heard that residual spells of this type tend to collect excess magical energy in the air around them as the years go by, so perhaps it’s that, but either way, it’s difficult. There’s physical resistance on top of magical resistance as well, and some moments she can barely move her hands. One glance at Mercedes shows that she’s having the same difficulties.

The second circle rotates much the same as the first, and it feels like forever until it finally disappears. Exhausted, she steps back, breathing heavily. 

“Well, that was really something,” Mercedes says, out of breath, and all Emmeryn can do is nod.

“The last will be by far the most difficult,” Marth warns. “Take a break.”

They do, all sitting and leaning against the passage’s walls. The air isn’t as heavy now, but there’s still the feel of magic in it, and the thrumming is less of a constant sound and now more sporadic, like irregular heartbeats. It’s an unnatural, unsettling sound, as if the seal is writhing against their attempt to break it. Marth paces back and forth in front of the sigil as he waits, and it seems he’s actively avoiding looking at it. 

After a few minutes, Chrom says he’s ready again, much to everyone else’s disbelief. “You’re not still tired?” Libra asks. 

“Well, a little, but no, not really. Are you?”

Emmeryn nods, as do Mercedes and Libra. She doesn’t understand how he could have recovered so quickly. She doesn’t feel like she could perform any spell right now, let alone try working on the seal again.

“Huh… Strange.”

“It’s probably because of how powerful your spells normally are,” Marth says. “You’re used to putting out that sort of energy and not even noticing, like when you accidentally summoned me. Now that you’re focusing it, it’s more tiring, but still not as much as it is for everyone else. That’s what I assume, anyways.”

“That makes sense,” Chrom nods. “Heh, maybe I should learn more of these old spells, then. I seem better suited to this kind of magic.”

“It’s not a bad idea, but you have to be careful with how much you use. You’ll absorb more magic with these spells than with the modern ones, you know, although I suspect you’ll have a higher tolerance than the average witch. Not that I’m encouraging you to test that, of course.”

“Could it be the effects of his Brand? I know it’s never been studied before,” Libra says. “It’s one of the reasons Hanneman is so dogged in his pursuits.”

“It could be, yes.”

“But Emmeryn has a Brand too, and her magic doesn’t seem to do that,” Mercedes says. “Wouldn’t it have the same effect on her?”

“Not necessarily. Brands are not Crests, so they won’t always behave the same for different people. Have you noticed anything strange about your magic, Emmeryn?”

She thinks for a moment. She hasn’t noticed anything particularly odd or chaotic about her magic before, at least compared to her peers. “I can’t say that I have.”

“Lissa turns things into frogs all the time on accident,” Chrom says. “Although she never manifested the Brand… but maybe that’s proof that she still does have it, and it just didn’t appear on her.”

“It could depend on personality too…” Marth muses. “Interesting.”

They sit and talk for a few more minutes until Mercedes announces that she feels ready to try again, and so she and Chrom stand and work on the last circle.

It’s even more slow going than the first two, and the rotation isn’t smooth- it’s jerky, and sometimes it slides back, and Emmeryn thinks Mercedes is regretting saying she was ready again so soon. It’s affecting Chrom too, but not as heavily. She stands and wraps her arms around Mercedes’ soft waist, helping support her. She smiles and leans back into her embrace, her pretty lips curling into a smile, and Emmeryn squeezes her a little tighter, a reassurance that she’s there to support her and won’t let her go. 

Suddenly, the seal gives way with a loud cracking sound, and the circle disappears. The Crest and Brand in the center linger in the air for a moment, then suddenly disintegrate into sparkling flecks of dust that cascade to the floor like sand in an hourglass. The air is less heavy, and the magical thrumming is gone, but there’s another sound, a low, slow beating. A heartbeat.

“What is that?” Emmeryn asks. There could be any number of things causing it, but whatever it is, it’s not magical. That much she can be sure about. She doesn’t pull away from Mercedes, and Mercedes makes no move to pull away from her, resting comfortably in her arms. 

“Nothing to worry about,” Marth says, eagerly moving forward. “The source is behind the rest of seals. It’s a good sign, actually. It means that everything is working as planned down here.”

“As planned?” Libra asks as Chrom helps him up, and they all start following Marth further down the passageway, Emmeryn’s hand in Mercedes’. “You seem to know a lot about this dungeon.”

“I know enough,” Marth says primly, and they reach a fork in the passageway. “Now, if I remember correctly, it’s the _ left _ hallway where… Ah, yes. This way.”

After a few minutes, their lanterns illuminate looming white shapes down the hallway, and as they got closer the shapes became bones. There are bones everywhere, some human, and others huge, as long as Emmeryn is tall. 

“Here we are,” Marth says, and his voice is subdued. They should be glad to find what they were looking for, but the air is heavy and smells of death, and it makes Emmeryn’s stomach turn.

“I never knew any of this was down here…” Mercedes murmurs. Her voice, although quiet, echoes throughout the passage, falling in line with the heartbeat before fading altogether. 

“I doubt that many people in the Academy know that this is down here, if any at all. This castle has a dark history that specific people wanted the rest of the world to forget, and eventually, whether by their design or simply by fading memory, people did. All of humanity did.” As they move closer, the light reveals three human skeletons, still wearing armor, laying near a much larger one of some sort of animal, collapsed against the wall. Marth jumps over the large skeleton’s tail, and approaches the humans, pawing at all of them before settling on one that is closest to the large skeleton’s abdomen. “This should do. Chrom, you may want to hold on to your cat. He may run when he comes back to himself.”

Chrom nods and, stepping over the tail, goes to pick up Marth. There’s a few moments of silence, and then the cat starts wriggling, and the skeleton starts shaking, and then everything is still.

“You okay, buddy?” Chrom asks, turning his cat so that he can look him in the eyes. He’s answered with a meow and a confused look, and Chrom laughs in relief, then starts smothering his cat with kisses. The cat is certainly back to himself, Emmeryn notes with a smile, because he’s looking irritated with all the affection, as per usual.

A few moments later, the skeleton starts moving and slowly stands, the armor falling off as he does so. 

“Marth? Did it work?” Emmeryn asks, and the skeleton shakes for a second the head falling to the side, before he rights it with a small clicking sound.

“I didn’t take into account the fact that making a thousand year old skeleton move would be much harder than a currently living cat, but yes, it did,” he says brightly, and then his tone falls again. “We should go. Best not to stay down here too long.” They nod and start to leave, and he hesitates for a moment before following.

The trip back seems much shorter than the trip down, and Marth pauses at the place where they broke the seal to place another one. The sigil that he draws for it is much more complicated, with three more rings, which he explains are to ensure that it is just as powerful as the previous sigil, since there’s only one witch casting the spell. Emmeryn can’t help but notice that he places a Mark of Naga in the center, but doesn’t comment on it. If he doesn’t wish to talk about it, then she won’t press the matter, but it confirms her suspicions. He’s one of their ancestors, and must have placed those seals here years ago.

They emerge back out into the halls of the Academy, sunlight streaming through the windows. Mercedes’ hand is warm in Emmeryn’s, and so is her shawl around her shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there wasn't supposed to be any angst but then this happened  
also Marth Fire Emblem says fuck crests (or he would if he wasn't so polite)


	6. kiss / cooking / pie

Mercedes is all a-flutter, like an excited baby bird just taking its first steps out of the nest and getting ready to fly. She’s going to meet Emmeryn today in the academy kitchens to bake a pie, and while that in itself really isn’t of any note, because they’ve done it multiple times before, she’s especially excited because it’s going to be a peach pie, and she knows that Emmeryn loves peaches. It’s a small detail to be excited over, surely, but she just can’t help feeling the tiniest bit giddy over it as she nearly skips to the kitchens.

“Mercie! There you are!” Annette catches up to her quickly- despite being shorter she always walks so fast that sometimes Mercedes has a tough time keeping up- and slows her pace to match. “So?” she asks with a grin, and Mercedes immediately knows what she’s talking about. She’s been an avid follower and encourager of her and Emmeryn’s romance since the beginning, perhaps more so than Emmeryn’s siblings, and she’s always asking about it.

“I haven’t told her yet, Annie. I will soon.” 

“Really? Come on!” Annette pouts, crossing her arms. “You  _ have  _ to say something to her. You’re leaving the whole world in suspense!”

“The whole world? Gracious, I didn’t know we were so important,” Mercedes giggles. “I’m a bit embarrassed.”

“You know what I mean!” She grabs her hands, bringing her to a halt, and bounces a little. “Okay, listen. I’ve been talking to Lissa-“

“Oh dear…” She shakes her head. Annette and Lissa have been talking quite frequently, scheming on different ways to get Emmeryn and Mercedes officially together, and each one is worse than the last. They’re not  _ bad _ ideas, necessarily, but they’re not great either. Most of them are much too big and grand (ranging from things like making it rain sunflower petals and releasing a flock of birds, to convincing a few school administrators to let them have the dining hall to themselves for a private dinner) and others are just strange (such as Lissa’s suggestion that a ride on a giant frog would be both funny  _ and _ romantic). 

“Don’t you ‘oh dear’ me! This one’s good, I promise! You’ll love it!”

Mercedes nods with a smile. “Alright. Walk with me and you can explain it. I have to go to the kitchen. I’m meeting Emm for some baking.”

“Aw, how sweet! Will I get a taste of what you make?”

“Of course, Annie.”

“Yes!” She does an excited little dance before they start walking. “Alright, so here’s the plan…”

Mercedes listens as they walk, but her mind wanders a little. Annette is right; she does need to say something to Emmeryn. She always makes the excuse that the time isn’t right, that she has to wait for the perfect moment, but life isn’t perfect, is it? That’s one of the beautiful little things about it, that the unexpected will always happen at some time or another, that she’s bound to crash into a pumpkin patch on accident, or someone will summon a ghost with an entirely different spell, or any number of things. If she spends all her time waiting for the perfect moment, it’ll never come, but there will be so many imperfect moments for her to choose from. It’s just a matter of choosing.

* * *

Emmeryn feels the heat of the kitchen before she even enters. She’s glad that she didn’t wear her hat and instead pulled her hair up into a loose bun with the ribbon on her wrist before coming in. The first sunflower that Mercedes gave her is tucked into it, protected by another especially strong preservation spell so that the heat won’t damage it.

She’s baked with Mercedes before, and admittedly isn’t the best at it, but she’s learning, and Mercedes is an excellent teacher. The treats they bake are almost as sweet as Mercedes herself, but really, Emm can’t even think of anything that could compare to Mercedes’ gentle sweetness and kindness. She is one of a kind.

She spots Mercedes over by the pantry, collecting ingredients, and surprises her with a hug from behind. She nearly drops the basket of peaches in her hand, but Emmeryn quickly extends a hand to help support it. 

“Oh! Emm! You scared me!” She doesn’t sound angry at all; in fact, she sounds delighted. “Sneaking up on me like that… have you no shame?”

“Sometimes,” she laughs. Lissa’s mischievous streak doesn’t come from nowhere, that’s for certain, but hers take a much more extreme form. Emmeryn likes the occasional good-natured prank or surprise, but none of them involve frogs.

“Absolutely incorrigible,” Mercedes sighs overdramatically. “But I’ll forgive you, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“I think I need some good luck for cooking today.”

“Hmm… I wonder how I could give you that.”

“Well, you know what they say,” she giggles. “A kiss on the cheek from a witch is good luck.”

“Of course. How could I forget that?” Mercedes tilts her head a little, offering her cheek, and Emmeryn kisses it. They’ve done this a few times before since the first time at the greenhouse, mostly on days when they have tests or the like, and Emmeryn always feels like she’s rediscovering just how soft and warm Mercedes feels on her lips, and the way that her heart beats just a little faster when she does it. “You won’t blame me for any cooking accidents since I’m the unlucky one now, right?”

“Well, we can’t have that! Let me fix that.” She turns and kisses Emmeryn’s cheek, a little more energetically than Emmeryn herself kisses. She likes how Mercedes’ actions always carry a certain weight and energy to them, and even something as small as kissing seems significant. “There. All better.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, then settles her head comfortably on Mercedes’ shoulder. “So what are we making today?”

“Peach pie! I thought you would like it.”

“It’s my favorite. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” Mercedes shrugs, but she has a pleased smile, the same cute one she always gets when a plan falls together. This most certainly had to be planned, because peaches aren’t in season anymore. She most likely went to great lengths to get them. “Let’s get started then, shall we?”

Emmeryn nods. “In a moment. Your hair’s going to get in the way if you leave it down.”

“Oh, I’m so scatterbrained! You’re right.” She unties the bow on her ponytail and is about to start pulling it back when Emmeryn gently takes it from her.

“I’ll fix it for you.”

“You’re too sweet, Emm,” she smiles, and patiently waits for her to put it back. 

“I don’t think anything is too sweet for you.” Mercedes’ hair is so much thicker than her own, and so soft. Emmeryn’s run her fingers through it so many times that she’s memorized the texture, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less enjoyable.

“Oh, I disagree. Those cakes Gaius made last week were.”

Emmeryn laughs, pausing as she does so, and Mercedes joins her, and for a moment it’s just the two of them in the whole world. The normalcy of the moment is satisfying too- things haven’t been normal since the events of last month, and are only just now calming down. Marth, still possessing the skeleton, left about a week ago to gather the materials necessary for the spell to send him back to the underworld, and to find someone he knew that he’s certain is still alive, because he hasn’t seen him in the underworld (and he’s admittedly going to be very cross with him for being so rude as to not visit if he really is dead). The ordeal with Mercedes’ brother isn’t over, unfortunately, but there’s been no news from that front, and Mercedes is more easily able to set aside her worries and relax. Emmeryn’s enjoying the calm, because it means that she and Mercedes can have a little peace and quiet to themselves. 

Eventually, she finishes twisting Mercedes’ hair up into a bun and tying it off with her ribbon. It’s a little too messy for her tastes, but Mercedes always insists that she does it so much neater than she’s ever been able to herself, so she lets it be. It will do, for now.

She finally pulls away, Mercedes thanks her graciously, and they get to baking. Emmeryn always loves watching her bake, for she exudes a quiet, comfortable confidence when she does, being completely at home in the kitchen, and her lips fit so perfectly around the words of each recipe as she reads it aloud. She could listen to her all day. Her directions are gentle but firm as they work closely together, bumping into each other probably more often than is practical, but neither of them make a move to distance themselves. At some points, it feels like they’re getting closer. Emmeryn wouldn't have it any other way. She loves being close to Mercedes, and she always wishes they could be closer, but… she catches herself staring at her lips, then quickly looks back down at the dough she’s rolling. Mercedes captured her heart long ago, and she wonders if she knows how tight of a hold she has on it. How can she not notice it when it’s beating so hard in her hand?

* * *

With the pie in the oven, the kitchen smells wonderful, and Emmeryn and Mercedes finally get a break to sit and rest. Emmeryn looks so charming like this, with her bun a little disheveled, and flour on her nose, and a little twinkle in her eyes. Her expression has relaxed back from a slight frown of concentration (which Mercedes thinks is adorable) to her usual serene smile as she stacks the used dishes to take to the sink.

It’s not around any sort of mealtime, so the kitchen is empty except for them. It’s quiet, but in a nice, comfortable way, not the quiet of emptiness but of fullness, as if the heat in the air makes it thicker, like a plush blanket enveloping them both. Mercedes catches herself staring at Emmeryn. There’s a bit of flour on her cheek too.

“Emmeryn,” she says, but the word has more weight to it than she meant, more meaning than she expected. She hasn’t said her full name in so long, and it feels odd on her tongue, in the way that saying the true name of a goddess would be, as if it was something sacred that should only be spoken when necessary.

“Yes?” She looks up from the stack of dishes, and a moment later Mercedes’ hand is on her cheek. What is she doing? It feels as though she’s not in control of her own actions, but rather being guided by some unseen force. Her heart thunders in her chest so loud that she’s sure that Emmeryn can hear it. Maybe it’s magic.

“You have flour on your cheek,” she simply says, and Emmeryn nods a little. It feels like she’s leaning into her touch, just a little, and Mercedes slowly wipes the flour away with her thumb. Emmeryn’s eyes fall to her lips, and then meet her own, and she feels like she could drown in that gaze, but in the sweetest way. She wouldn’t mind if she did.

This moment isn’t perfect. The flour Mercedes tried to brush off simply smudged, and one of her hands is sticky with peach juice and sugar, and Emmeryn still has a hand on the dirty dishes. They’re both a little sweaty, and both have messy hair and messier aprons. There’s no candlelight like Mercedes’ read about in books, no starlit scene, no roses, no dramatic vows of love.

This moment isn’t perfect, but it’s the one she chooses.

As Mercedes draws closer to her, Emmeryn’s eyes flutter shut, and she tilts her head a little, anticipating what’s to come. She takes a moment to appreciate how pretty she is, and then she realizes it’s silly, because she’s going to have so many more moments to appreciate her after this. Their lips meet.

When Annette asks Mercedes about it later in hushed, excited tones, she will say that she can’t quite remember what it was like, just that it felt so right, so sweet, so perfect. In truth, she remembers every detail, but how could she articulate what it was like? How could she describe how good it felt to finally,  _ finally _ feel those soft lips against hers, to pull Emmeryn close with a hand on her waist and feel her arms around her neck, to feel like she’d found a place in the world that was made just for her? She couldn’t, but in that moment, she memorizes every feeling, every sensation, every thought as she holds Emmeryn tightly.

Every time they pull away, they come back for another, another, another, as if it could ever make up for the wasted time spent together doing anything but this. “Mercedes,” Emmeryn finally says, and while hearing “Mercie” on her lips is a treat, hearing “Mercedes” again after so long feels so intimate, so perfect. She’s about to respond when Emmeryn breathlessly continues. “I love you.” She swallows, then repeats herself, over and over again. “I love you. I love you, Mercedes, I love you.”

“I love you too. I should have said something sooner. I’ve been in love with you so long.”

Emmeryn presses her forehead against hers, one of her hands sliding to cup Mercedes’ cheek. “I think you’ve been saying it this whole time. I just never said it back.”

“I think you did too, plenty of times. Neither of us acknowledged it. That was silly of us,” she laughs, and Emmeryn laughs too, and then they kiss again, and again, and again.

* * *

The peach pie is a little burnt, but not so badly that anyone complains about it. Annette is generous with her compliments, as always, Libra thanks them for sharing and says a prayer before he starts eating, and Lissa is too busy stuffing her face with pie to say anything, much to Maribelle’s dismay. Chrom is making a mess too, and usually Emmeryn would gently remind them of their table manners, but she’s much too occupied with the young woman sitting next to her. She and Mercedes have both already finished their slices, something that was challenging, to be sure, since they were too busy holding hands to properly eat. It resulted in a lot of feeding each other that made Lissa’s jaw drop (before Maribelle reminded her to please finish chewing before opening her mouth like that, if she really insists on doing so), and Annette clap her hands in delight. It’s funny, Emmeryn realizes, that they’ve all been reacting as usual to their behavior. Them acting like a couple is nothing new for anyone, it seems.

Things have changed between her and Mercedes, certainly for the better, but not by much. They still hold hands the same way, still sit close together, still lean in for quiet little comments. The only difference is that she feels more free, like a weight has been lifted off her heart and it doesn’t have to work so hard to beat anymore. It flutters like a baby bird learning to fly.

She leans in to Mercedes to whisper to her. “Should we tell them?”

“It’s kind of fun keeping them in suspense,” Mercedes giggles.

“Terrible,” she laughs quietly. “But true.”

Mercedes leans her head against her shoulder, where it’s always fit so well, and Emmeryn leans her head against hers. The table is more lively now that almost everyone is finished eating, and Chrom and Annette are in the middle of an animated conversation. 

“...it’s like they  _ want _ people to break things around here,” Chrom is saying, and Annette enthusiastically nods in agreement.

“Right? There’s so much stuff out in weird places! I feel like every time I turn a corner, there’s another barrel in the middle of the hallway!”

“And don’t even get me started on the training grounds.”

“Oh, those are the  _ worst _ !”

“Maybe if you two were a bit more careful, you wouldn’t have this problem,” Maribelle says primly.

“Do you think they’ll notice if we drop a few hints?” Mercedes asks quietly.

“Maybe. What sort of hints?”

As an answer, Mercedes lifts her head and kisses her, and Emmeryn returns it with a tight embrace. Mercedes feels so comfortable in her arms, as if she is made to be there, and her lips so heavenly that perhaps it’s true. 

If Emmeryn had it her way, she’d never let her go.

“Chrom!” comes Lissa’s shriek from across the table, as expected, and Emmeryn laughs into the kiss, and soon Mercedes is laughing too, and soon enough they’ve stopped kissing, but it doesn’t bother them. 

There’s enough time in the world for them to keep kissing later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> burning a pie because you're too busy kissing your gf to pay attention to it is gay culture


	7. together / ring / cozy / warmth / fire

Five years have passed. Five chilly winters, five budding springs, five balmy summers, five cozy autumns.

Things have changed, to be certain. Life is not immutable, and five years is longer than it seems until one looks back and wonders where the time went. Mercedes was always sure never to waste it, to treasure every second she could.

Her hair is short now, a decision partially out of practicality and partially out of a desire for something different. Emmeryn cut it for her in the summer, as she sat on a stool in front of a mirror and watched the strawberry-blonde locks fall to the floor with each gentle snip of her scissors. The windows were open, letting a breeze pass through their home. It felt unfamiliar but pleasant as it brushed over the back of her neck, and she realized how light her head felt.

Emmeryn cut hers as well, to just above her shoulders. She said that it used to be that length when she was a teenager, long before she met Mercedes. She still wears it in the same style, two golden curls framing her face, and the rest of her curls fell to the floor to mix with Mercedes’.

Mercedes was the one to sweep the hair up, at her own insistence, and she kept a fistful of it, placing it in a bottle for safekeeping. 

They have a comfy little home together, less than a day’s flight to the academy, where Lissa is still finishing her studies. She visits when she can, often accompanied by Annette. Emile has been missing for the past five years, with the letter Mercedes received being the last trace of him. Chrom has long left the academy and the kingdom, to travel with Libra and the green-haired man that Marth brought to the academy before returning to the underworld. He promised to teach Chrom ancient magic and guide him further in his skills than the academy would be able to teach him, and Libra wished to accompany them. They send letters to Emmeryn when they can, telling her and Mercedes of the most fantastic places and people, often accompanied by Libra’s sketches, and promising each time that they’ll come back and visit soon, but they’re really just having the most wonderful time where they are so it’ll be just a _ little _ longer. Emmeryn always smiles fondly at these promises when Mercedes reads the letters aloud to her. 

Emmeryn and Mercedes themselves work to heal and help people, to shelter them when they have nowhere else to go, and to feed them when they have nothing to eat. It’s what Mercedes always wanted to do, and she is happiest being able to do so alongside her love. Their house is always warm and comfortable, with the scent of freshly baked sweets and bread wreathing it like mist, and sunflowers and roses dancing in the wind in the garden, and laughter and smiles at every turn.

The fire is warm in the hearth despite the cold outside on this particular crisp autumn night. The two women lay amongst warm furs and pillows near it, relaxing close to each other in a sleepy, comforting silence. Mercedes was reading, but now she simplys lays atop a pile of pillows, covered by a fur that stretches over them and the couch behind her, as Emmeryn leans against her, twirling her right-hand curl with lazy motions. The firelight tinges her skin with a pretty amber glow, and Mercedes watches her as she stretches like a cat before curling back up again, laying her head on Mercedes’ bare stomach and tracing little circles along her skin. There’s a familiar sizzle of magic with each touch.

“What are those for?” she asks, propping herself up on one side with her cheek in her hand.

“Wellness,” she says, changing up the shapes she traces, now to a heart. “Relaxation.” Now to the Mark of Naga. “Dissipation of magical energy.” Her fingers trace the looping curves of the Crest of Lamine, over and over again.

“Hm.” Mercedes smiles and reaches down to lightly stroke her hair. “Thank you.” Emmeryn’s always doing things like this, sweet little gestures that always silently say “I love you” when words aren’t enough.

It’s been five years since they first admitted their shared love, and it feels like it’s both been forever and no time at all since then. Mercedes wonders where the time went, but she knows when she thinks about it; it went into hours of work, of leisure, of sleep, and, always, of love. They’ve discussed many times together where their relationship will go next. Mercedes has no opinion on matters of marriage, really- she just wants to be able to spend the rest of her life with Emmeryn, whether they are married or not- but Emmeryn’s made it quite clear, in that gentle, patient way she has, that she’d like to be married someday. Mercedes has full intention of proposing to her, but this time she wants to follow Annette and Lissa’s old advice of performing some sort of grand romantic gesture before she does. Maybe she will, maybe she won’t, but in her mind Emmeryn deserves that at the very least.

Emmeryn’s still lazily tracing the Crest of Lamine on Mercedes’ stomach, her fingers taking ever wider paths each time. “How did I ever get so lucky?” she murmurs, closing her eyes as Mercedes continues to stroke her hair.

“I would ask the same thing myself, but I know the answer.”

“And what’s that?” 

“It was all those good luck kisses, of course! We’re both lucky beyond belief by now.”

Emmeryn laughs and sits up, scooting closer to Mercedes. “Then I hope my luck never runs out.”

“I’ve heard that a kiss on the lips from a witch is even luckier than one on the cheek.”

“Is it now? Then I suppose I have nothing to worry about.” She dips down for a kiss with her hands on Mercedes’ cheeks, and unlike the kisses they shared earlier in the evening it is soft and chaste, and Mercedes gently caresses the back of her neck as she returns the kiss. She says she is lucky, but truly, all the luck in the world could never be enough to give her a moment so sweet. This is infinitely beyond that, she decides, as Emmeryn breaks apart with one last kiss and settles in next to her, pulling a fur up to cover them both.

“We should go to bed,” Mercedes says.

“True, but it’s warmer here.”

“Also very true.” She snuggles a little closer to her, sliding her arms around her, and closes her eyes. “Good night, pumpkin.”

“Good night. I love you.” She can’t see it, but she knows Emmeryn is smiling.

“Love you too.” She feels her lips brush against hers again, and drifts off to sleep, her heartbeat falling into the same steady rhythm as Emmeryn’s. 

* * *

When Mercedes wakes up the next morning, Emmeryn is already up, as per usual, and Mercedes can hear humming from the kitchen and the quiet little sounds of cooking. It’s a familiar sound, one she hears almost every morning, and it makes her smile. One of these days she’ll be sure to get up first and cook. For now, she sits up and stretches, then stands, gathering her discarded clothes from the night before, and then goes to get ready for the day. 

She’s almost done when she passes by a certain bottle on the shelf in their bedroom, the one with their hair in it. Unbeknownst to Emmeryn, a few locks of hair isn’t the only thing in there, and she upends the bottle over her hand to fish it out. A ring falls into her hand, a band made of braided gold and rose gold, and a little dark blue gem ringed with sunflower petals that shows a tiny night sky swirling in it. Mercedes made it herself, from interwoven strands of their hair and a dewdrop, collected by the light of the full moon, that she enchanted to reflect a tiny version of the star spell she showed Emmeryn so long ago. Some days she carries it with her, other days she doesn’t, waiting for the right moment. Today she slips it in her pocket, just in case.

Emmeryn is wearing her pretty green robes, fresh as a spring breeze, and just finishing making pancakes, speckled with berries, when Mercedes enters. The dappled early morning sunlight, filtered through the red leaves outside their kitchen window, casts hazy shadows over her, making a patchwork of bright and dark. Her hum is a little off-key, but to Mercedes, it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. She approaches her from behind and hugs her, giving her a kiss on the cheek before resting her head on her shoulder. “Good morning, pumpkin.”

“Good morning,” she smiles, and turns her head to give her a quick kiss.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Keep me warm?”

Mercedes laughs and nods. “Of course.” Emmeryn always gets cold easily, and Mercedes is always more than happy to snuggle up to her and keep her warm, so she stays where she is, leaning her head against hers. Moments like these are quiet, but comfortable, and one of Mercedes’ favorite parts of the day. She loves simply being close to her, not having to say anything, and feeling completely at home. The world around them is so big, but in moments like this, Emmeryn is her world.

When breakfast is ready, she helps her carry the pancakes and the dish of butter and the pitcher of honey to the table in the nook. They sit and discuss what they have to do that day, and the state of the flowers in the garden, and the ghost story Mercedes read last night, and any number of things as they eat. This is how their days usually start, with quiet conversations and quiet reminders that she is so, so in love. 

They finish eating as conversation turns to the lyre in the sitting room, which Mercedes can see from where she is. They got it a while ago, both hoping to learn to play it, but music doesn’t seem to be either of their talents, no matter how much they practice. “I wonder if we could get it to play on its own,” Mercedes muses, resting her chin in her hand. Her face is a little sticky from the honey.

“Perhaps, but what spell could we use?”

“Maybe a combination of ones we already know… hold on.” She mutters a quick spell, making some parchment and a quill fly to her. “If we combine these two…” She starts scribbling the incantations of each down, puzzling how to fit them together, and adding a third along the way. As she does, Emmeryn quietly gathers up the dishes to wash them while she’s distracted. Mercedes, however, notices.

“Emm, don’t you dare. I won’t let you wash the dishes after you made breakfast.”

“It’s alright, Mercie. Truly.”

“No, I can’t allow it.” She grabs Emmeryn’s hand before she can get up.

She laughs quietly, shaking her head. “You’re too sweet, Mercie.” Emmeryn’s smile, soft and slight as always, is so radiant, so brilliant, that the sun pales in comparison. 

“Nothing is too sweet for you, and you always work so hard. Besides…” She reads out the spell she wrote down, and after a few offkey notes the lyre starts playing the same song they first danced to at the tavern all those years ago. “Who’s going to dance with me if you’re doing dishes?”

Emmeryn folds her hands primly on the table. “Perhaps there is a lady that might be interested, if you ask her.”

“Then may I have this dance?” Mercedes stands and curtsies as she asks, extending her hand to Emmeryn.

“You may.” She takes her hand and Mercedes pulls her up and out of her seat into a close hold, and they dance. It’s a familiar, one they’ve done hundreds of times, both with and without music, and the steps come as easily as loving each other.

They slow to a stop as the song ends, and lean in for a kiss, and the ring suddenly feels so much heavier in Mercedes’ pocket. Grand romantic gestures aren’t really her style, she realizes, but little ones like this are. It’d be much too forced any other way. “Emmeryn?”

“Yes?”

Still holding Emmeryn’s hands, she slowly sinks down onto one knee. “Emm, I love you very, very much. I can’t imagine life without you.”

“Mercedes…” Emmeryn’s smile is glowing, and she looks ready to cry.

“If you’ll have me, I’d like to wake up next to you every morning, and dance with you in the kitchen every morning, and help people beside you every day, and relax with you every evening, and fall asleep with you in my arms every night.” She lets go of Emmeryn’s left hand and reaches in her pocket for the ring, then holds it out to her. “Would you make me the happiest woman in the world and marry me?”

Emmeryn nods, a few tears of happiness shining on her cheeks like dewdrops on the flowers in their garden. She’s at a loss for words for a moment, and then finally, she says, “Yes. Yes, of course.” 

Mercedes smiles and slips the ring on her finger. It fits perfectly. Emmeryn grabs her hands, pulling her up and kissing her, murmuring “I love you, Mercie, I love you so much,” between kisses. Mercedes holds her tightly, never wanting to forget this feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE MY GIRLS MUCH,, mercedemm soft,,


End file.
